i LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. I 

% <!II)ap.-D(k^4L I 

> f^YTTr"n QT ATT7Q nr? A^rFT^Tf A ^' 



\^«- 



ITALIAN LEGENDS AND SKETCHES. 



■>.J 







jrW/.CUMMII^GS, D.D. 



OF NEW YORK. 





NEW YOEK: 
EDWARD DUNIGAN & BROTH 
JAMES B. KIRKEE, 

311 BROADWAY. 




1858. 



~PZ.«, 




/S.4I 



l" » 



II '> 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1868, by 

JAMES B. KIEKEE, 

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the 
Southern District of New York. 



ITALIAN LEGENDS AND SKETCHES. 



CONTENTS. 



The Conspirators of Milan, 9 

The Last Grand Master of Malta, .... 25 

Reminiscences of St. Alphonsus Liguori, ... 31 

The Tiara Unworn, 51 

The Emperor's Revenge, 63 

The Ghost of the Black Friar, 73 

Monastery of La Cava, 81 

The Soldier's Purgatory, 105 

Ezzelino the Cruel, 109 

Daniel the Anchoret, 143 

The Ruined Castle, 151 

The Bandit of Yelletri, 159 

The Prisoner op the Castle, 187 

The Vision of Odoacer, 191 

The King of Colors, 215 

The Lake of Bolsena, 219 

The Republic op San Marino, , 233 

The Marquis of Tuscany, 263 



/ 



PREFACE. 



The following Legends and Sketches of Italy are drawn from 
reminiscences of study and travel in different parts of that beautiful 
country. They will be found to possess one merit at least, that of 
variety. The writer has written as he felt, and he treats his readers 
to a little information, a Uttle description, a little piety, a little poetrj', 
and even a little amusement. He has tried to furnish something easy 
to read, and yet, he hopes, not altogether unimproving. 

Some of the Sketches have appeared before in the periodicals of the 
d£jy, but most of the matter, even where it is not new, is published for 
the first time. The author hopes that his readers will enjoy the 
Italian excursion upon which he undertakes to act as their guide, 
treating them on the road to a number of tales, either true or as 
like truth as he could make them, and concludes with the augury ot 
old-fashioned Italian prefaces : Yivete felici — May you be happy. 



i 



THE CONSPIRATORS OF fflLAK 



2 



THE CONSPIRATOKS OF MILAN. 



THE heavy clock of tlie Cathedral of Milan had 
not yet finished striking four, when in an adja- 
cent street the passer-by might have beheld a large 
door tnmultuously opened, from which a number of 
urchins with books under their arms, or in leathern 
satchels, rushed out with loud cries and peals of laugh- 
ter. Some of them set off at a gallop towards their 
homes ; others engaged in wrestling with their com- 
panions, or turned back to laugh at their old Peda- 
gogue, who, with bare head and rod in hand, was 
standing in the doorway, and looked unusually cross 
even for a pedagogue. The eldest lad of the school, 
a tall youth of about seventeen, had alone remained 
within. 

" They have all gone out, Master Nicholas," said 
he to the old teacher. 

" Tandem aliquando !" growled Master Nicholas, 
spitefully reclosing the door. " I'd whip the bark 
ofi every one of them, as Apollo did with Marsyas." 

" Oil, poor little imps," said the youth, "you take 



12 THE CONSPIRATORS OF MILAN. 

extraordinary pleasure in treating tliem to the 
ferula." 

" "What ! wonld'st tlion too, Girolamo, bother me 
with this song?" and then grasping his rod, and in- 
jBlicting repeated strokes upon some imaginary cul- 
prit before him, he muttered between his teeth, " I 
wish I had been ten times harder upon one whom I 
know." 

" Patience yet awhile, Master, and your debt will 
be paid to him with a Jew's interest." 

"Well said, my son! Keep up your courage, 
and foster those ripe principles which make a man 
of you before your time, yes, a man — a man ! But 
there are those two knocking." 

Master Nicholas went to open the door, smiling and 
bowing grotesquely to two young men who entered. 

One of these, a tall and well-proportioned youth, 
whose proud and noble bearing even more than the 
fringed velvet cape which fell down to his waist, 
announced him to be of illustrious lineage, was 
Carlo Yisconti. 

His companion, Andrea Lampugnano, was the 
son of a wealthy tradesman, and with the haughti- 
ness of his friend united a look expressive of dis- 
sipated habits, and rude, overbearing temper, which 
produced in his regard a rather unfavorable impres- 
sion from his very first appearance. 

" It is certain, then," said the pedagogue, conti- 
nuing the conversation which they had opened, " that 
Galeazzo returns to-day." 



THE CONSPIRATORS OF MILAN. 13 

" 'Tis the general voice at court," said Carlo Yis- 
oonti. 

" I declare," cried the young Girolamo, " if we 
had known it, we might have lain in ambuscade for 
him on the road." 

" A ^g for jour ambuscades ! " exclaimed Lam- 
pugnano. " You will have a fair opportunity, young 
man, to show your courage on Christmas-day, and 
to make it appear whether old Montano's confidence 
in you be disj)laced or not." 

" JSTever doubt him for that," said Old Nicholas. 

" Yincit amor patriae . . . ." 

" Laudumque immensa cupido," said the youth, 
smartly concluding the quotation. " I assure you I 
am tired of waiting." 

" Yes, Christmas-day !" said Carlo Yisconti, " and 
it will be seen whether Milan, for whose sake my 
immortal father spent his life and blood, is to be any 
longer the theatre of the infamies and tyranny of 
an upstart Sforza ! Tlie peoj^le, I am sure, will bless 
us for the bold stroke, which every true man in the 
city fears to deal, but would be proud to have 
dealt." 

" I tell thee. Carlo," said Lampugnano, " it makes 
my blood boil to hear mention the name of that 
brutal Galeazzo. Would you believe that no later 
than yesterday a letter addressed to him, wherein I 
begged permission to occupy that field of mine 
which the Bishop of Como claims for the Church, 
was returned with a reply that the Duke, forsooth, 



14 THE CONSPIRATORS OF MILAN. 

could not dispose of ecclesiastical property. Such 
an answer to me wIlo have exposed my life to keep 
him in possession of his pilfered Seignory ! He 
scruples not to lay his hands on the chattels of the 
Church, aye ! and upon the sacred persons of her 
priests, when it suits his avarice or his revenge to 
do so." 

" You have both been wronged by the unjust 
oppressor," said Master JSTicholas with a long-drawn 
sigh. " Grievously wronged !" said Master Mcho- 
las, as he gave forth the sigh in a second edition. 

These tokens of inward grief, however, were at- 
tributed to his own sorrowful reminiscences rather 
than to the wrongs of his friends. When Galeazzo 
was raised to the Ducal Throne, Master Nicholas 
Montano, who had formerly been his preceptor, was 
one of the first to appear in his most proper raiment 
to congratulate the new Signor. He had carefully 
combed his long grizzly locks that day, a Sunday- 
morning smile beamed upon his lips, and he had 
even prepared a pleasing surprise for the Prince in 
the shape of a dozen Latin hexameters on his exal- 
tation, which he intended to declaim in his presence. 
But the impressions of early childhood are not 
easily obliterated, and the hatred Galeazzo had 
formerly borne the dry old pedagogue, was the first 
feeling which awoke at his sudden reappearance 
after so long a time. Galeazzo, like other young 
men of those days, was proae to act upon first im- 
])rcssions. Impulse was his guide, and although he 



THE CONSPIRAfTORS OF MILAN. 15 

was sometimes known to thinlv after he had acted, 
he very rarely reflected beforehand. As Master 
Nicholas once said of him, he was like Homer 
in one respect, for he rushed immediately "in medias 
res." 

" How does that old Satyr dare to present himself 
here ?" said the Duke, as old Nicholas went on bow- 
ing and scraping, with his look and his smile riveted 
upon the Ducal person. " By Jove ! I remember 
how often he used to curry my back for me when I 
was a schoolboy ;" and turning to one of the sturdy 
bravos who always surrounded him — "Do you think. 
Sparrow-hawk," said he, " that it would be anything 
but fair to give the old sinner his due, and settle 
accounts with him now ?" 

" Settle him now, of course," answered the ruf- 
fian, laying his hand upon his dagger ; " only say 
the word, master, and he shall never intrude his ugly 
face upon you again." 

" Pooh !" said the Prince, " give him a few lashes 
on the buttocks and let him go." 

Before the thunder-struck schoolmaster could 

open his lips to utter a word of self-defence, he was 

dragged out into an adjoining court by two or three 

men-at-arms. Sparrow-hawk undid his leathern 

I sword-belt, and began to apply the end on which 

j was the buckle to the unprotected seat-of-honor of 

/ the man of letters. One of the sturdy myrmidons 

I took out a greasy Sa'kta-Croce, or primer, and 

repeated a letter of the alphabet at every stroke, 



16 THE CONSPIEATOES OF MILAN. 

until poor Master Mcholas was whipped from 
A to Z, mucli more impressively than any of his 
boys had ever been under the magisterial hand. 
His bellowing, every time the strap came down, 
was heard in the presence-chamber, and aiforded 
infinite mirth to Galeazzo and his worthy associates. 

The injury inflicted upon him by his old school- 
boy sank deep into the heart of the pedagogue, but 
afraid of the Prince, he dared not give vent to his 
anger, or mention his desire of revenge, except in 
secret with his young friend Girolamo Olgiato, and 
the owner of the school-room, Andrea Lampugnano, 
whom he knew to be an enemy to the Duke, from 
motives of private interest. The old man suddenly 
recollected that he had thought Galeazzo, from when 
he was a boy, destined to be the ruin of his country. 
So strongly did he fire the mind of Girolamo with 
descriptions of the former prosperity and happiness 
of Milan, and with glowing declamation upon the 
glory of those who had delivered Rome from her 
tyrants, that the light-headed youth often declared 
his readiness to make a Caesar of Galeazzo, if an 
opportunity should present itself of emulating the 
fame of Brutus. 

Lampugnano's desire of revenge did not die away 
in empty boasting. He artfully succeeded in gain- 
ing tlie heart of Carlo Yisconti, who was a page in 
the Ducal Court, a high-souled youth, but whose 
amiable and confiding disposition was easily over- 
come by the passionate appeals of his friend, wlio 



THE CONSPIRATORS OF MILAN. 17 

U2)braided liim with the former glory of his family, 
and his own sleepy inactivity. Had these young 
men kept their machinations afoot for a considerable 
length of time, their ardor probably would have 
gradually subsided, they would have been deterred 
from any overt attempt against their Prince by the 
danger of the act, or their secret would have been 
divulged by increasing the number of conspirators. 
Old Nicholas knew enough of the human heart to 
understand all this, and urged on by these con- 
siderations and his own burning desire for re- 
venge, he had scarcely succeeded in reconciling 
the young men to the plausibility of an attempt 
against the Prince, when he dragged them at once 
into action by a sworn agreement that they would 
attack Galeazzo the first time he came to Milan. 
He was then at some distance from the city, in the 
winter-quarters of the army of his little state. 

Suddenly after the above-mentioned determina- 
tion, it was rumored that he would soon return to 
the city, where he intended to be present, with all 
his household, at the festivities of Christmas. Tlie 
conspirators assembled forthwith, and it was resolved 
that as no other opportunity would probably offer 
^for a considerable time, they would rush upon the 
Duke, and deliver the city from his oppression, as 
he entered the Church of St. Stephen to attend 
High Mass on Christmas morning. This ancient and 
venerated dome had been arrayed with tasteful mag- 
nificence for the reception of the Prince, and the 

2* 



18 THE CONSPIRATOES OF MILAN. 

unusual solemnity of the functions of that Christ- 
mas-tide were likely to draw together a great multi- 
tude of people. 

" It is enough if we give the signal," said Carlo, 
"and all Milan will rise up in vengeance against 
the tyrant." 

" Especially," said Master ]N'icholas, " if they be- 
hold such a bright example given by a member of 
the illustrious house of Yisconti." 

" Whether they rise or not," said the ferocious 
Lampugnano, " if I can but approach him, and my 
good steel do not fail for the hrst time, the Christ- 
mas of 1476 will be the last one celebrated by Ga- 
leazzo Sforza." 

Young Girolamo felt as big as a hero, and was 
just opening his mouth to utter some high-flown 
sentiment, when the sound of a trumpet, and al- 
most simultaneously the trampling of horses, was 
heard in the street. The three young men ran to 
open the large window of the school-room, which 
out of respect to a female convent on the opposite 
side of the way, was screened with a high jalousie- 
blind, so that they could see through it without be- 
ing observed from the street. 

The noise was occasioned by a cavalcade of 
knights and gentlemen who accompanied the 
Signor of Milan on his return to the city. The 
sight of the haughty Lord passing on, so near them, 
proudly mounted on a richly-caparisoned steed, and 
in high spirits, served not a little to inflame the ha- 



THE CONSPIRATORS OF MILAN. 19 

tred borne him by our heroes. Carlo saw in him 
the usurper of a state that belonged to his family. 
Girolamo a tyrant, the removal of whom would 
gain him merit before God, and the fame of a Bru- 
tus in the eyes of the world — as Master Mcholas 
had taught him to believe. Lampugnano a prince, 
the downfall of whom would enable him to pay his 
numerous debts, and change his present untoward 
circumstances for the better. As for Master Mcho- 
las, he thought of his slighted hexameters, and of 
the strokes inflicted on their author, and his soul 
waxed fierce within him while gazing at the prince. 
He imagined himself suddenly leaping from the 
window, running up to him, dragging him by the 
leg from horseback, and while he pierced him to 
the soul, crying out, " nunc morere" — with the rest 
of a passionate quotation from Yirgil. While the 
four worthies are giving vent to the expression of 
their indignation, and mutually inflaming their 
minds against Galeazzo, it will be but just to give 
the reader a short account of that personage, 
taken from the most venerable chronicles of his 
age. 

Galeazzo Sforza was the son of Francesco Sforza, 
one of the most famous generals of his time, who, 
by his extraordinary valor and unshrinking perse- 
verance, had succeeded in raising himself from the 
lowest rank of society to the command of the forces 
of the commonwealth- of Milan. Some years past, 
during which the power of his adherents and the 



20 THE CONSPIEATOES OF MILAN". 

fame of liis exploits augmented, lie was installed in 
the ducal chair of that ancient and powerful city. 
When Francesco died Galeazzo was in France, but 
his mother, Bianca, despatched a messenger to him 
with the utmost haste, informing him of the event, 
and pressing him to return speedily to Milan. Ga- 
leazzo departed immediately for his native land. 
One of the petty signors, who, in those days, were 
perpetually on tlie look-out for adventures which 
might increase their fame or replenish their coffers, 
gave chase to this fat bird of passage, who with the 
greatest difficulty, and only by frequently changing 
his assumed garb, escaped being taken, and got in 
safety over the borders. He passed in disguise and 
alone through the frontier cities of Lombardy, but 
soon after made a triumphant entry into Milan. 
The city had been kept quiet and peaceable by the 
prudence of Bianca, and obeisance was made with- 
out reluctance to Galeazzo as their liege lord by the 
nobles and the j^eople. 

Galeazzo was young and brave, and of a noble 
appearance, adorned with every attribute of manly 
beauty. But his people soon ceased to like liim on 
account of his eccentricities, which finally ended in 
positive tyranny. He forsook the path pointed out 
to him by the example of his wise and heroic father, 
and by his profligacy and cruelty became the curse 
of his country and the detestation of his subjects. 
This circumstance gave confidence to the conspira- 
tors, who separated with the firm resolution of ac- 



THE CONSPIRATOKS OF MILAN. 21 

complisliing tlieir rasli designs or perishing in the 
attempt 

It was Christmas morning. The wide square be- 
fore the Chm'ch of St. Stephen, as well as the inte- 
rior of the sacred edifice, was crowded with people. 
Tlie priests robed in their most costly vestments 
stood in the sanctuary ready to begin the solemn 
rites of high mass ; and from the balustrades of the 
sanctuary, the men on the right hand, and the wo- 
men on the left, extended in two long columns 
down to the main door, which was wide open in 
expectation of the Duke. He soon arrived in the 
midst of a splendid retinue, and with his liabitual 
airiness and levity was now skipping up the steps, 
and just on the point of entering the church. 

It caused a general titter amongst the nobles who 
preceded the Duke, to see Andrea Lampugnano 
come out to meet them, with a letter in his hand, 
begging them to make way for him, as he wished 
to present it to Galeazzo. It is quite usual for the 
people in Italy, even in our day, to present petitions 
to Princes and Prelates on such solemn occasions as 
these, when they are on foot, and can be approached 
and spoken to even by the poor.' Hence the motion 
of Lampugnano in an ordinary ]3erson would have 
occasioned no surprise. But it caused, as we have 
said, a general sensation amongst the nobles and 
officials to see him in the attitude of a petitioner. 
Turning to one another, they said, with an undis- 
guised laugh : "There is that odd fish Andrea, with 



22 THE CONSPIRATORS OF MILAN. 

his old complaint against the Bishop of Como." 
They hastened to open a pass for him, and ever j eye 
was turned to the Duke, who, it was expected, would 
indulge, according to his wont, in some sarcastic re- 
mark at the expense of Andrea, or make him look 
more foolish still, by unceremoniously pushing him 
out of the way. But what was the terror and dis- 
may of the multitude, when, beholding Lampugnano, 
with his left hand, toss the folds of his long velvet 
cape over his shoulder, his right arm rose in the air, 
and a dagger gleamed upon their sight ! With the 
rapidity of lightning, it descended with dreadful 
force upon the Prince, and deeply pierced his breast. 
The assassin aimed another stroke at his temple, and 
almost simultaneously Carlo Yisconti and Girolamo 
Olgiato assailed him from behind. A general uproar 
and tumult arose amongst the people, the boldest of 
whom, guided by their first impulse of humanity, 
notwithstanding the general hatred towards him, 
rushed to the rescue of the Duke. But before assist- 
ance could be given, and in spite of his own noble 
efforts, overpowered, and pierced with wounds, the 
unfortunate Duke fell heavily to the ground. Eipeo, 
a veteran follower of Galeazzo's father, upon seeing 
his youthful master wounded, drew his sword and 
attacked Lampugnano, who, intimidated by the 
general rise against him, made an attempt to escape 
by casting himself in the midst of the terrified crowd 
of females, and endeavoring to gain the side door 
of the church. He dealt, however, in retreating, a 



THE CONSPIRATORS OF MILAN. 23 

blow of such desperate weiglit at Ripeo, that the 
whole clmrch swam around before the old soldier's 
bewildered senses, and staggering backwards, he 
became wholly unable to pursue the fugitive. At 
this critical moment, an Ethiopian named Gallo, 
whom the Duke had redeemed from slavery, threw 
himself on the assassin, who was already wounded, 
and succeeded in despatching him. The people had 
rushed to the doors, and the church was soon empty. 
The Priests, coming down from the altar, closed the 
doors, and found three dead bodies on the pave- 
ment : that of Duke Galeazzo, by whose side lay 
the faithful Kij)eo, and at some distance Lampug- 
nano, grappling the cold stones with his nails and 
teeth. Carlo Yisconti and Girolamo Olgiato had 
been fortunate enough to abscond amidst the fright- 
ened multitude, and by passing rapidly along the 
most unfrequented streets in the early part of the 
fray, succeeded in reaching the gates and effecting 
their escape from the city. But, taken a few days 
afterwards, they were condemned to be quartered 
alive. It was found impossible to induce the young 
Girolamo to repent of the part he had taken in the 
assassination of his Prince. He persisted in saying 
that his act was such as to merit a reward from 
heaven, and undying praise upon earth. While in 
prison, the day before his execution, he wrote a short 
Latin poem, which has been preserved, on the "Un- 
certain Power of Tyrants." As for Master Nicho- 
las, he had taken good care not to get so near the 



24: THE CONSPIRATOES OF MILAN. 

scene of action as to preclude escape in case of any- 
sinister occurrence, and the instant he perceived 
that the multitude did not side with his associates, 
he scud away with the swiftness of the deer, and 
did not stop until he had left the walls of Milan far 
behind him. As it came to be known, however, that 
he had poisoned the mind of Girolamo, and had 
been the cause of the false heroism of that un- 
happy youth, he was sought after with particular 
diligence. Some Florentine soldiers, belonging to 
Lorenzo de' Medici, finally discovered him as he 
lay ensconced at a considerable distance off in 
the mountains. He was brought back to Milan, 
and hung by the neck as a traitor. 

The death of Galeazzo Sforza was the cause of 
great troubles in the Duchy, for as he had left an 
only son, eight years of age, the most fatal dissen- 
sions ensued for the succession, in which several 
Italian Princes and Commonwealtlis took sides. 
All and the whole of wliicli veritable narration is 
[ an important lesson for the potentates of this world, 
f who vainly hope to reign in peace, if they do not 
secure the affection of their subjects by the impar- 
tial administration of justice; and a Avarning to 
schoohnasters, who may one day bitterly regret both 
having instilled wrong principles into the minds of 
their scholars, and having applied the magisterial 
rod to their backs at the impulse of spite and 
passion. 



THE LAST GRAND MASTER OF 
MALTA. 



THE LAST GKAND MASTER OF 
MALTA. 



^^ M"^ ^^^' *^^* ^^^ ^^^^^ ^^^®* -^^^^ beaten fare 
ITX badlj, is my motto." 

" But what will all Europe say when it reads an 
absolute renunciation of all claims on Malta, Gozo, 
and Comino, made by our Order, almost without 
resistance ?" 

" And what, pray, has your Order done for France, 
that I should seek to guard its honor and its inte- 
rests ? You are the secret allies of England and the 
open friends of Eussia, and you have denied water 
to our fleet, when we had no other port at hand that 
could relieve our wants." 

"But, General"— the rest of the reply was cut 
short by a deep sigh. 

" Come, come, my good friend," said the General, 
" Malta is now in the hands of the French Republic, 
and nobody can wrest it from them. You, at all 
•events, have no reason to consider yourself ill- 
treated. Look at article 2d. ' A pension of three 



28 THE LAST GRAND MASTER OF MALTA. 



Imndi-ed thousand francs a year, not to cease unless 
it be replaced by a duchy in Germany.' " 

The speaker at these words placed the point of 
his fore-finger on a parchment that lay open before 
him, and raised his eyes to those of his interlocutor. 

This conversation was carried on in the Parisio 
palace at Yaletta, the capital of the Island of Malta, 
on the 16th of June, 1798. The speakers, two mili- 
tary personages of high rank, were seated at a table 
covered with papers and documents, among which 
the parchments imder discussion. One was dressed 
in the uniform of a General of the Eepublic of 
France ; his cocked hat mounted with the tricolored 
cockade, was on the floor near his chair. His hair 
was black, and combed straight down to hi^ fore- 
head, his eyes dark and piercing, his lips firmly 
compressed, his form short and muscular, his move- 
ments quick and determined, almost angry in their 
imperiousness. The other was a tall German Knight, 
with blue eyes, fair skin, and rosy cheeks, an anxious, 
unsettled, and timid gaze. He wore the robe of St. 
John, and his breast was adorned with the Grand 
Cross of the Order. 

Their colloquy was now ended by the signing of 
two copies of a written agreement to which they 
affixed their names as follows : signed : " Br. Ferdi- 
nand de IIonq)esch, G. M. of the Order of St. John." 
Signed " Bonaparte." The Grand Master now rose, 
and was courteously escorted by the General to the 
door, wliere he took his leave. 



THE LAST GRAND MASTER OF MALTA. 29 

The Grand Master wended his way slowly along 
the strada reale, and having reached the esplanade 
in froiit of the great chiirch of St. John, he dismissed 
his attendants, who retired to the Hostelry or Palace 
of the Grand Master, while Hompesch ascended the 
step>s leading to the church. Twiliglit was now 
spreading its grey wings over the city, his troubled 
soul needed the quietness and solitude of the hour. 
Leaning against a pilaster of the fa9ade, he cast his 
eyes upon the city. On his right hand lay the Grand 
Porto, bristling with towers and fortifications, which 
had withstood all the power of the East for well 
nigh three centuries. Tlie broad bastions of La 
Cotton era and Yittoriosa seemed to protect the bay 
against any incursion from the land, while the 
battlemented rocks and promontories of Corradino, 
Senglea, and Bighi, guarded the land against any 
approach from the bay. On the left hand side 
stretched the great harbor of Marsamuscetto, the 
quarantine and lazaretto grounds of the island. 
Here also every point of ground was manned with a 
strong tower, and every indentation ended against 
a broad bastion. Between these two bays runs out 
to sea the tongue of land upon which stands Yaletta. 
Tlie extreme point is guarded by an impregnable 
fort, on whose summit blazes a light-house for miles 
out to sea. The extreme points of the shore facing 
the lantern on the riglit and left, are crowned in like 
manner by giant forts. On tlie side of the Grand 
Porto stands Fort Ricasoli, on the side of the Porto 



30 THE LAST GRAND MASTER OF MALTA. 

di Quarantena or Marsamuscetto, stands Fort Tin- 
nier. Il^earer at hand, scattered here and there 
among the houses of the natives of the island, were 
the splendid hostelries of Castile, France, Aragon, 
Anvergne, Provence, Italy, England, and Germany, 
the abodes of the Knights of the different tongues or 
countries. 

Tliis fair and famous city, this whole island with 
the neighboring islands of Gozo and Comino, all 
these haughty knights of every nation, all these for- 
tifications down to curtain and fosse, scarp and ra- 
velin, had been subject to his command up to the 
present day. To-morrow's sun would behold him 
without power, and all this subject to another mas- 
ter. " Still all is not lost ; three hundred thousand 
francs a year or a dukedom in Germany is some- 
thing to be considered," quoth the Grand Master. 
" But will not all Europe spurn me as a traitor or at 
best a coward ?" 

The Grand Master could find no satisfactory an- 
swer to this serious question. Tlie blood mounted 
to his cheeks and mantled his throbbing temples. 
lie shut his eyes convulsively to banish the hateful 
thought, and buried his face in his hands. How 
long his sad and painful reverie lasted the Knight 
was unable to explain, nor could he account for his 
manner of entering the church. He found himself, 
liowever, kneeling not far from the door of the sub- 
terranean chapel which contains the tombs of tlie 
Grand Masters of the Order. As he gazed down 



THE LAST GRAND MASTER OF MALTA. 31 

the gloomy stairway leading from the church to the 
vault, he perceived a dim spark of light, which gra- 
dually quickened into life, and grew larger and 
brighter, shedding around a blue and ill-omened 
gleam. By this light he saw a confused sparkling 
of helmets and shields, swords and spurs, and then 
a group of Knights of St. John, who moved up one 
after the other from the vault and marched towards 
the wicket of the railing before the grand altar. 
He observed that every Knight wore tlie insignia of 
a Grand Master, and as they passed into the sanctu- 
ary he recognised distinctly the features of ISTicholas 
Cottoner, Manoel de Yilhena, Lisle Adam, Pinto, 
Zondadari, and the great Lavallette, whose appear- 
ance was identical with the statues or painted por- 
traits on the monuments in the aisles of the church. 
Suddenly a report of all the cannon in the hun- 
dred and one forts of the island burst upon his ear 
with a deafening crash. The church was lit up with 
a blaze of light from a thousand torches, showing 
distinctly the smallest emblems and gilded lines 
along its richly painted sides and ceiling, and the 
tinted panes of its storied w^indows, and even the 
inscriptions on the tombs of marble and bronze. 
The whole nave of the church is paved with the 
tomb-stones of Knights of the Order. Each slab 
now trembled, flashed, and blew open, and from 
each started up a warrior. Tlie whole space was 
filled with the sparkling armor, and the nodding 
plumes of the dead come to life again. A Knight 



32 THE LAST GRAND MASTER OF MALTA. 

in the armor of Auvergne marclied up tlie middle 
aisle and unfolded the grand gonfalon of the Order 
in front of the altar, and at his side stood pages 
bearing the well known " sword of Religion," that 
which Philip II. had bestowed upon the great La- 
vallette. A peal of martial music welcomed the 
standard of St. John, victorious in many a hard- 
fought battle, and clouds of incense curled around 
it and rose towards the ceiling, filling the church 
with a grateful odor. 

At the foot of the altar stood a bishop, arrayed in 
full pontificals, supported by deacons, sub-deacons, 
and the ranks of the minor clergy. Every one knelt 
as the venerable prelate made the sign of the cross, 
and began to recite the " Introit," all joining in the 
responses, while the " Kyrie eleison" was intoned 
from the gallery at the end of the church, and the 
full harmonious peal of the organ accompanied its 
majestic notes. The "Gloria in excelsis" and 
" Credo in unum Deum," were intoned at the altar 
and sung in turn by the choir. High mass went on 
with all the majestic rites and ceremonies of the 
Eoman Pontifical. The deacon, at its end, turned 
to the people and chanted " Ite missa est," and the 
bishop having bowed and kissed the altar, assumed 
the mitre, and turning, crozier in hand, to the war- 
like congregation, he gave them his benediction in 
the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the 
Holy Ghost. Tlie last gospel was read, and as the 
bishop pronounced the words, " Verbum caro factum 



THE LAST GRAKD MASTER OF MALTA. 33 

est," every knee was bent to the ground, and high 
mass was over. 

The bishop was now conducted to his throne, and 
disrobed of the brilliant vestments he had worn 
while officiating at mass. He laid aside his mitre, 
sparkling with gold and precious stones, and put on 
a plain white one without ornaments, such as is 
used in seasons of penance, or in masses of requiem 
for the dead. He was clad with a cope of dark pur- 
ple, and sat without speaking on the faldistorium or 
episcopal chair. 

The deacon, who was a priest of the order of St. 
John, now stood before the bishop and said : " Most 
Illustrious and Eeverend Lord, the Knights of the 
Order of St. John here present ask you, whether it 
is pleasing to you that the chair of honor of this 
chapter be filled ?" 

The Bishop answered — " Placet." The master of 
ceremonies and two pursuivants in complete armor, 
approached the terrified Hompesch in the corner 
where he knelt, and led him into the midst of the 
ghostly assembly. As it is usual on entering the 
choir, he bowed to the bishop and to the assembled 
knights, turning first to the left and then to the 
right. His greeting was not noticed, and every eye 
was bent to the ground. He was conducted to the 
stall of the Grand Master, which no one had occu- 
pied during mass, and thus filled the most conspicu- 
ous seat in that august assembly, next to the episco- 
pal chair. The well-known form of the Grand Mas- 

3 



34 THE LAST GRAND MASTER OF MALTA. 

ter Pinto, the immediate predecessor in office of 
Hompesch, now glided to the middle of the choir. 
While he spoke a dead silence reigned thronghont 
the assembly, and the lights seemed to bnm bine. 
" I hereby do solemnly impeach Ferdinand de Hom- 
pesch as a false traitor of the honor of God, and the 
weal of the Order of Knights Hospitallers, which 
he solemnly swore to nphold, and I ask that the sen- 
tence he deserves be passed npon him in this noble 
assembly of his brethren and predecessors in office." 
The nnhappy knight trembled from head to foot, 
and when solemnly interrogated by the bishop, what 
he had to say in his defence, his tongne cleaved to 
the roof of his month, he conld not ntter a word. 
The bishop now arose: "In accordance with the 
canons of the Chnrch, and the constitution of the 
Order of St. John, it is decreed, if it please the 
chapter, that Ferdinand Hompesch, as a recreant 
knight and a false traitor, be degraded from Knight- 
hood." All answered, " Fiat ! fiat ! fiat !" 

Tliongh no confusion ensued, some questions were 
now asked, and were briefly answered by the bishop, 
but the luckless knight was unable to discern by 
which of the ghostly Hospitallers those questions 

were put. 

What he was able to hear of these questions and 

answers ran thus : 

"What shall become of the filthy lucre for wliich 
he sold our \AiU\d to the stranger ?" 

** He shall never touch it." 



THE LAST GRAND MASTER OF MALTA. 35 

" What of the German Principality, the further 
and fouler bribe ?" 

" He shall never possess it." 

" What of the right of ownership transferred by 
him to the French Commander ?" 

" It shall pass from the French soldier to a British 
sailor." 

" What price shall England pay for the island 
which she thus wrests from the Commander of the 
French ?" 

" She shall give him another island in return for 
this:' 

Three of the spectre knights now went up to the 
trembling Hompesch ; one of them was Lavallette. 
Seizing him by both arms, they led him outside of 
the sanctuary rail. Here one of them tore from his 
neck the grand cross of St. John, the second un- 
buckled his sword and took it from his waist, while 
Lavallette, unsheathing his own historic blade, struck 
off from his heels the spurs of knighthood. 

Overwhelmed with a sense of utter shame and 
hopeless misery, the degraded Grand Master covered 
his face with his hands. When he dared to breathe 
and look up again, he found himself leaning against 
a pilaster in front of the Church of St. John, which 
was dark and silent as the tomb, amid the deepening 
shades of night. 

Two days after, Ferdinand Hompesch was put on 
board a vessel bound for Trieste, and left Malta 
never more to return. He was forced to sign a 



36 THE LAST GRAND MASTER OF MALTA. 

resignation of his title of Grand Master of the Order 
of Knights Hospitallers, which was assumed by the 
schismatic Paul I., Emperor of Eiissia. 
^- He made many useless efforts to obtain the money 
^ promised him in the name of the French Eepubhc, 
' and finally died poor and despised in Montpelier. 
Shortly after his departure a British fleet, com- 
manded by Lord Admiral Nelson, entered the port 
of Yaletta. The tri-colored flag of the Jacobins was 
struck, and the Union Jack has floated ever since 
over the castles and palaces of Malta, Gozo, and 

Comino. 
f^ ^The Sword of Religion was hung up as a curi- 
^ osity in one of the museums of Paris, and he who 
hung it there perished on a rocky island of the Indian 
Ocean, prepared for his reception by the hospitality 
of the Parliament of Great Britain. 



KEMINISCENCES OF ST. ALPHONSUS 

LIGUOKI. 



REMINISCENCES OF ST. ALPHONSUS 

LIGUORL 



THE writer of this sketch was seated in the sha- 
dow of the great colonnade on the morning of 
the memorable 26th of June, 1839, when the grand 
procession which began the august ceremonies of 
Liguori's canonization came tbrth from the eastern 
door of the Vatican . The way was covered with 
yellow sand, strewn with laurel and boxwood, and 
the countless flowers of the season ; and the massive 
pillars on each side were hung with damask and 
gold cloth, or festooned with graceful wreaths of 
evergreen. Tlie hymn of praise soared to heaven, 
swelled at first by the clear silvery voices of the 
youth of the sanctuary clad in snow-white surplices, 
emblematic of the purity of their hearts, and then 
by the manlier tones of the sons of many and many 
a religious brotherhood, whose penitential garb 
showed the austere discipline and attested the re- 
mote antiquity of their several institutions. Then 
followed tlie students of the foreign colleges, and 



40 REMINISCENCES OF ST. ALPHONSUS LIGUORI. 

the chapters of the venerable clergy of Rome, mar- 
shalled under the standards of those ancient basi- 
licas where Constantine and Helena knelt in prayer, 
where Leo and Gregory expounded the saving word. 
Hundreds had swept gracefully by clad in the robes 
of their station or office, when the towering Gonfa- 
lon came in view, on wdiich a master hand had 
painted the humble Liguori in the attitude of prayer. 
It was followed by ninety-seven bishops, and forty- 
seven cardinals, and the high priest of the Chris- 
tian church — the venerable Gregory XYI. sur- 
rounded by all the state and splendor of the Roman 
court. The scene at this point was enlivened by 
festive peals of martial music, issuing from the mass 
of infantry and cavalry that closed the procession. 

The crowd of people who flocked together in the 
great Church of St. Peter, and far and near around 
it on this occasion, well nigh defies calculation. In 
Rome few stayed at home during the hours of the 
ceremony, unless children, the old and infirm, their 
attendants, and those inmates of the cloister whose 
rules did not allow of their appearing abroad. Sup- 
posing all these to have been seventy-five thousand, 
we have over one hundred thousand left who were 
free to attend if they would, and all these pressed 
towards the centre of attraction. Tlie night before 
the ceremony a room could not be had for love or 
money, and the police reported present in the city 
sixty thousand strangers. In addition to all these, 
long columns of men and women, from every town, 



REMINISCENCES OF ST. ALPHONSUS LIGUORI. 41 

village, and liamlet, in the neighborhood of Rome, 
poured down from the mountains and across the 
level campagna on the mormng of the great festi- 
val. Many of these "paesani" had started long 
before sunrise, and were headed bj priests and 
friars chanting the Rosary, or Italian hymns, all 
joining in the responses. They poured in through 
every gate of the city, and drew together on the 
vast esplanade in front of St. Peter's. Here they 
reposed and refreshed tliemselves while the ceremo- 
nies inside the church were being brought to a close, 
and then knelt devoutly at the solemn benediction 
of the Pope, to receive which was the object of 
their pilgrimage. Tliey took up then their line of 
march back to the hills of Frascati, Albano, Pales- 
trina, Sabina, and Umbria, with supreme indepen- 
dence, and generally without even entering the 

church 

In the midst of this immense assemblage there 
was one person who excited great interest in every 
beholder. He had been chosen, as a special distinc- 
tion, to bear the silken tassel of a cord which hung 
from the lofty standard on which was painted the 
new Saint, Alphonsus. He was a grey-haired old 
man, there was no effort at stateliness in his gait, 
his eyes w^ere turned to the ground, and down his 
cheeks streamed tears he was unable to restrain. 
That old man was the Chevalier Liguori, nephew to 
the Saint. He had often been caressed by him 

when a child, had listened to instruction from his 

3* 



42 REMINISCENCES OF ST. ALPHONSUS LIGUORI. 

lips, and had been confirmed by his hands, and he 
now lived to take part in the solemnities of his exal- 
tation to the honors of the Catholic altar, of his 
election to be a father and patron of the Christian 
world. Happy old man ! What conflicting emo- 
tions must have filled his heart at that hour ! How 
fervently he must have prayed to the Saint and 
craved his intercession, no longer in the silent 
communings of his own heart, but in unison 
with the joyful hymns of the infallible Church of 
God. 

The triumphal standard of Liguori was followed 
by four others sacred to four Christian heroes, one 
of whom was St. Francis di Geronimo, of the Society 
of Jesus, justly styled the Apostle of i^aples ; for 
that city was sanctified by the splendor of his vir- 
tues, and the labors of his untiring zeal. St. Francis 
was distinguished by the gift of miracles and pro- 
phecy. He was an old man when the mother of 
Alphonsus brought her infant son to him, that he 
might give him his blessing. He did so with great 
tenderness, and turning to the lady : " This child," 
said he, " will live to a good old age, for he will 
reach his ninetieth year. He will be a Bishop, and 
the Lord will do great things through his means." 
Did the holy man see unveiled before his mystic 
vision the splendor of the sacred rites that were to 
honor their joint memories on the same day, amid 
the pious joy of generations yet unborn ? 

It was a noble and generous resolution that led 



REMINISCENCES Of^ ST. ALPHONSUS LIGUORI. 43 

the Saint to embrace the priesthood, with all its toils 
and sufierings, its cares and its joys. 

Gifted with a pleasing exterior, an amiable dispo- 
sition, acknowledged abilities, an admired taste for 
music and poetry, winning manners, and the spirit 
and liveliness which mark the high-born youth of 
Xaples, the young nobleman had before him every 
prospect of a brilliant career in the world. He 
obeyed his father's wishes in the choice of a profes- 
sion, and graduated with honor as a Doctor of Laws. 
His fine talents, his devotion to study, and his per- 
sonal integrity, soon mad^ him known to the public 
and gained him both practice and reputation. He 
was about twenty-five when a lawsuit between two 
princes on a question of feudal rights attracted con- 
siderable attention in the Neapolitan Courts, and 
the young attorney was chosen for counsel by one 
of the contending parties. This case was by far the 
most important yet entrusted to his care, and weighty 
interests were at stake in its result. He studied 
closely for a whole month, and came into Court ready 
at all points for trial. The merits of the case and 
the reputation of the lawyers retained, by different 
parties interested, had drawn together large num- 
bers of the profession, and a crowd of nobles and 
citizens. The young pleader spoke with an earnest- 
ness that showed his heart was in his work. He 
had carefully examined the voluminous document- 
ary evidence naturally connected with an old-fa- 
shioned lawsuit upon a question of tenure and pro- 



44: REMINISCENCES OF ST. ALPHONSUS LIGUOEI. 

prietorsbip, and he Tras so learned and so Incid in 
bringing forward and arranging his authorities, that 
he was evidently producing upon the Court the same 
eifect his eloquence had already produced upon out- 
siders. The presiding Judge, who took a paternal 
interest in young Liguori, secretly rejoiced at the 
victory his young friend seemed sure to gain. Tlie 
justness and point of his argument had been unmis- 
takable, and the eloquent young advocate, while 
pressing home its obvious conclusions, took care not 
to cumber and obscure it with side issues of irrele- 
vancy or minor importance. A murmur of applause 
ran through the hall when he sat down. The oppo- 
site counsel was now on his feet, but the general 
impression seemed to be that he could have little 
indeed that was sensible to bring forward in reply. 
He did not open a debate, but coolly pointing to the 
papers which lay scattered around, he begged his 
eloquent and learned friend to examine somewhat 
more closely a passage in one of the deeds. The 
piece alluded to was a document upon which his 
argument had been mainly based, and Alphonsus 
turned without hesitation to the passage in point, 
with the confidence of a man who had previously 
given it his serious attention. His opponent eyed 
him closely, and in spite of his good breeding, and 
the punctilious decorum of Courts in olden times, 
his face was radiant with a smile of triumph. 
Alphonsus read, and as he read he grew ashy pale. 
Strange as it may seem, in the intense application 



REMINISCENCES OF ST. ALPHONSUS LIGUORI. 45 

with which he had pored time and again over that 
deed, he had failed to notice the two simple letters 
of the monosyllable " I^o /" He had dwelt upon 
the passage with such eagerness in his harangue, 
that his less interested opponent had noticed in his 
quotation the omission of the negative particle. The 
two unnoticed letters were now the only ones visible 
to the unhappy young lawyer. The fatal negative 
seemed to be written in flame, and seared his very 
eyeballs. The thought shot through his mind that 
the whole fabric of his defence was tumbled to the 
ground, his merit reduced to ridiculous insignifi- 
cance, the case lost to his client, his personal cha- 
racter dishonored, and he himself placed before the 
Court and the public in the light of a knave or a 
fool. These reflections occupied but an instant, 
during which the young man nearly fainted. For a 
few moments there was a scene in that dignified old 
court. The confusion and dismay of Alphonsus 
was so unaffected that all suspicion adverse to his 
honesty vanished at once from every mind. The 
presiding Judge endeaA^ored kindly to raise his spi- 
rits, so suddenly and liopelessly crushed. He bore 
public witness to his integrity and ability, and 
assured him that misapprehensions like his were not 
of unfrequent occurrence, in spite of every precau- 
tion and long experience at the bar. The unlucky 
youth trembled from head to foot, and stammered 
out, " I have been deceived — pardon me — the fault 
is mine," and left the hall. As he went down 



46 KEMINISCENCES OF ST. ALPHONSUS LIGUORI. 

stairs towards the street-door, he was heard to ex- 
claim, with emotion, " World, treacherous world ! 
I have fomid out what thou art. I am not lit for 
thee !" When he reached his rooms, he shut him- 
self up, and gave vent to his long suppressed feel- 
ings in a torrent of tears. He passed three days in 
this dreadful solitude without admitting a visitor, or 
partaking of any nourishment. The evil spirit who 
tempted the Son of Man in the desert, must have 
sorely straitened the bruised heart of Alphonsus. 
But the promptings of human respect, and ambition, 
and pride, and despair, and every other selfish pas- 
sion were nobly and successfully driven back. His 
reflections were not those of a disappointed man of 
the world, but those rather of a Christian from 
whose eyes a veil is suddenly withdrawn. His hours 
of retirement were spent at the foot of the Crucifix, 
and his plans for the future were irrevocably formed. 
The faithfulness with which he kept his vow, then 
taken, to serve God, and Him alone, forms part of 
the history of the Church during the last century, 
and must be gathered from more learned pages than 
those of this little sketch. 

The Saints of God are suited, by a wise Provi- 
dence, to the age in which they live, and the special 
gifts they receive, fit them to meet the special wants 
of the people to wliom they are sent. In the days 
of Saint Alphonsus Liguori there prevailed a fatal 
coldness of religious feeling that paved tlie way for 
the triumph of unbelief in ihe fairest realms of 



REMINISCENCES OF ST. ALPHONSUS LIGUORI. 47 

Catliolic Europe. To the Saint, therefore, was 
granted a heart burning with zeal in the cause of 
the Church, and a mind stored with practical wis- 
dom to teach her law, and guide men in its keeping. 
A noble youth — a gifted and successful student — an 
eloquent and brilliant speaker — a ready, accurate, 
and popular author — an exemplary Priest — a fer- 
vent religious — -a great and holy Bishop, he made 
himself all unto all, that he might gain all unto Christ. 
He received in heaven the reward he had earned by 
the saving of countless souls, and not many years 
went by before the highest glory that man can win 
was given to his memory on earth. 

In the autumn of 184— the writer had an oppor- 
tunity of visiting the Convent of San Michele dei 
Pagani, the mother-house of the Pedemptorists. It 
was here their holy founder passed the last years of 
his life, having obtained permission from the Pope 
to resign into other hands his Diocese of Sant' Agata 
dei Goti. Pagani is a little village near JS^ocera, 
through wliich a railway train now bears the travel- 
•ler on his way from [N'aples to La Cava. The body 
of St. Alphonsus rests in a side-chapel of the same 
church in which he so often preached in his own 
earnest and affectionate style, and where he passed 
hour after hour in sweet communion with his God. 
A screen is removed from before the altar, and you 
can there kneel down and pray, and look at him as 
he sleeps the sleep of the just, dressed in the same 
pontifical vestments, wearing the same mitre, and 



48 REMINISCENCES OF ST. ALPHONSUS LIGUORI. 

liolding the same crozier whicli lie bore wlien in 
life. In a little room behind this chapel are shelved 
in different safes and shown to the pious traveller, 
the whole of his episcopal wardrobe, the hnmble 
service of his table, the garments he wore on his 
person, the books and sacred images so often sancti- 
fied by the touch of his hands. 

You are then guided through the same corridors 
and up the same stairs where he passed when he was, 
bent down by age and infirmities, led on by some 
friendly hand, but always with a serene smile on his 
patriarchal features, and always ready to address a 
good-natured greeting, an edifying remark, or even 
an inofi'ensive pleasantry to the religious brethren 
wdio met him on his way. You push open the plain 
deal door of his apartment— two modest little rooms, 
where everything has been left in the same state in 
which it was found at his death. In the first stands 
the little altar where, as long as he was able, he 
used to say Mass, with the same homely ornaments 
that were daily arranged upon it for his use. In 
the other room there is his bedstead, with the sheets 
and coverlet folded upon it, his table with its ink- 
stand and brass reading-lamp, and near at hand the 
old arm-chair, whose leather covering is worn by 
his use. The walls are hung with his crucifix and 
several sacred images, blackened by the frequent 
kisses which he impressed upon them in the ardor 
of liis devotion. 

The presence and natural appearance of his body, 



REMINISCENCES OF ST. ALPHONSUS LIGUORI. 49 

and all these relics wliicli bear witness to tlie daily 
tenor of liis life, produce a singularly pleasing illu- 
sion. You feel yourself carried back to the time, 
tlie presence, and the society of the Saint, and you 
seem to hear him speak, as he has written, in words 
of varied learning, simple devotion, and world-em- 
bracing charity, all blending happily together to 
form the charming style so peculiarly his own. 

There were three or four very old and venerable 
men living in the monastery at the time I was guided 
through it by a kind and polite young father, who 
showed me all the little wonders of devotion I have 
been describing. One of these old patriarchs was 
the father superior of the house, and when a lad, as 
I was then myself, it was said that he had seen and 
known St. Alphonsus. Before leaving the little 
cell, next to the rooms of the Saint, where I was 
presented to him, I asked him if he would bless with") 
all the devotion he could, an American boy who ) 
loved their holy founder St. Alphonsus, and who 
would, probably, soon become a priest and a mis- 
sionary. The old man seemed touched by this 
appeal, and as I knelt before him he raised his eyes 
to heaven and laid his open hand trembling with 
age upon my head, and blessed me. I kissed his 
hand and departed. I learned not long after that 
the good father had gone to join St. Alphonsus in 
heaven. 



THE TIARA UNWORN. i 



THE TIARA UNWORN. 



THE seventeenth of Marcli in the year of our 
Lord 752 was a day of no little excitement in 
the city of Rome. The last notes of solemn service 
for the dead had been sung in St. Peter's, where the 
body of Pope Zachary, loved by the People as a 
munificent father, and venerated by the Church as a 
Saint, was now laid in earth near the tomb of the 
Prince of the Apostles. The Bishops of the suburban 
Sees, and tlic chief Priests of the city known even at 
that early period by the name of Cardinals, were 
assembled in the church of St. Mary Major, delibe- 
rating on the choice of a successor to Zachary, and a 
multitude was gathered around them filling the 
body of the church, and scattered in groups outside, 
like fragments severed from the bulk of the main 
crowd. The secret session, the slow scrutiny, and 
the formal rites of the conclave which the Church, 
to protect her freedom, has thrown around the elec- 
tion of her High Priests, were not in force at that 
earlier and simpler age. The eyes and the hearts 



I 

54 THE TIARA UNWOBN. j 

of the assembled ecclesiastics soon centred upon j 

Stephen, a well-known priest, a Roman by birth and \ 

lineage, a man of approved virtue and noble cha- i 
racter, and the titular of one of the ancient basilicas. 

The people soon forgot their grief for the loss of ! 

the departed Pontiff in their joy at the election of ; 

one who was their favorite to succeed him. Their ! 

suffrages in his behalf were free and unanimous ; j 

and without more ado they rushed into the sane- [ 

tuary, and bore him triumphantly along with them j 

to the Patriarchal Basilica of St. John Lateran, ; 
where it was customary to install the Popes in 

office. The Clergy and the Magistrates of the city j 

followed the crowd, and arriving at the Church, | 

they succeeded in restoring order and taking the \ 

arrangement of the ceremonies of installation into ] 
their own hands. These ceremonies now proceeded 

with propriety and decorum, the people pressed for- | 

ward and looked on with eager curiosity, but they j 
were hushed into reverential silence by the voice of 

the clerical dignitaries reading aloud the prayers i 

which accompanied the rite of possession foiTnally | 

and solemnly taken of the Lateran Patriarchium by j 

the newly created Pontiff. The Palace had been | 
nearly rebuilt and tastefully decorated by Zachary, 
its cloisters, staircases, and numerous apartments 
were ready fitted and furnished, and after the Te 
Deum was sung at tlie Grand Altar of the Church, 
Pope Stephen II. entered and reigned in the impe- 
rial Halls of the Lateran. 



THE TIAEA UNWOKN. 55 

On Saturday morning, the 18tli of Marcli, he cele- 
brated Mass in a private chapel ; it was the last 
Mass he was to say as a simple priest, for on the 
next morning he was to be consecrated Bishop, and 
take his seat upon the throne in the sanctuary, the 
first dignitary of the Church in holiness of order, as 
he was already in extent of jurisdiction. He passed 
the day in private devotions, to prepare for the 
august ceremony, seeing only those persons to whom 
it was impossible to refuse admittance on afikirs of 
pressing importance. The bustle of arrangements 
on a grand and gorgeous scale was going on noisily, 
gaily, unceasingly in the Palace, in the Church, and 
throughout the whole city, for everybody was inter- 
ested in the great coming event, and everybody was 
to take part in it in some way, whether as actor or 
spectator. Tlie church was in the hands of carpen- 
ters, fitting platforms, stalls, and kneeling-benches 
for the clergy and nobility ; of upholsterers decorat- 
ing the walls with damask and cloth of gold, can- 
delabras, and variegated festoonery, and strewing 
the marble pavement with flowers and evergreens ; 
and of masters of ceremonies laying out vestments 
upon the credence tables, chalices, ciboriums, and 
missals, and Pontificals upon the side-altars, and 
preparing wine, oil and chrism, bread, tapers and 
torches, incense, and water in gold and silver ewers, 
and cruets for the Grand High Mass. Over the din 
of preparation pealed the roll of the organ and the 
swelling voice of the choristers rehearsing their 



56 THE TIAEA UNWORN. 

parts for the service. The Magistrates and their 
subalterns were hurrying hither and thither, giving 
and receiving orders, the military scoured their 
mail, and chose out their finest scarfs and gaudiest 
plumes for an effective and strong muster ; and in 
the lower part of the palace, hot cooks and cross 
waiters rattled up and down, and ran against each 
other in their eagerness to forward all things for the 
sumptuous banquet, which was to follow close upon 
the great religious celebration. 

The eventful morning of Sunday, March 19th, the 
Feast of St. Joseph, dawned with all the richness of 
light, and the freshness and purity of atmosphere 
that belongs to a southern spring; and the sun, as it 
poured its rays athwart the mountains of Tusculum 
and the open Campagna upon Rome, illumined a 
city astir with crowds in holiday attire, all hastening 
towards the Lateran Basilica. The Holy Father had 
not as yet come forth from his private apartments, 
but the antechamber was already filled with groups 
of the noble and exalted of State and Church, and 
with many distinguished strangers, lay and clerical, 
who had come on important business from foreign 
lands. There were the suburban Bishops of Ostia 
Sabina, Albano, Antium and Palestrina, and those of 
Umbria and Tuscany, the Cardinal Priests of the 
Roman parishes, and the Abbots of the Monks and 
Canons Regular wliose monasteries stood in the city 
and its environs. Ambrose, Cliief of the notaries, 
the Senator, the Judges, and Magistrates of Rome 



THE TIARA UNWORN. 57 

appeared in their robes of office. Tlie oriental garb 
of another group designated the envoys of the 
Greek Emperor Constantine Copronymus. They 
had come to Rome to treat of the vexed question 
excited by the Iconoclasts or image-breakers, and 
now had good reason to look serious, news having 
just been received of the invasion by the Arabs 
of the fairest portion of the Eastern Emperor's 
dominions. Legates from, liavenna were anxiously 
awaiting an opportunity to solicit the powerful pro- 
tection of the Father of the faithful against Astolfo, 
King of the Lombards, who had taken their city, 
and driven from its gates the Exarch Euty chins, and 
now threatened to march upon Home itself. In 
another part of the room were Burchard, Bishop of 
"Wurtsbourg, and Fulrad, Abbot of St. Denys, 
Ambassadors from Pepin le Bref. They came to 
explain the dethronement of Childeric, who had 
been shaved a Monk at Sithieu, and to solicit the 
interest of the Pope in favor of Pepin, formerly 
Mayor of the Palace, now claiming to be King of 
Prance, and to recommend to his friendly protection 
the rights of Pepin, and his son, afterwards l^iown 
as the Emperor Charlemagne. Moro pleasing and 
peaceful news was brought by Monks from the 
IS'orth, who had been sent by the great Apostle of 
Germany, St. Boniface, Archbishop of Mentz. They 
bore letters of the Saint, begging that his disciple, 
the Englishman Lullus, formerly a Monk of Malmes- 
bury, might be appointed Archbishop to succeed 

4 



68 THE TIARA UNWORN" 

him, or at least to administer a portion of liis 
immense archdiocese, which embraced the cities 
and environs of Tongres, Cologne, Worms, Spire, 
Utrecht, as also Strasbourg, Angsburg, Constance, 
and Coire. Steel armor and purple cassock, the 
serge habit of the monk and the flowing toga of 
the patrician brushed against each other in the 
stately halls that led to the audience-chamber of 
the High Priest of Christendom, and the greatest 
Monarch of the Universe. The rustle of silks and 
the hum of conversation was now more and more 
subdued, and expectation was on tiptoe, for it 
was momentarily expected that the doors would 
be thrown open, and a sight obtained of the new 
Pontiff. The time was near at hand when he would 
have to descend to the adjoining church, where 
the solemn rites of his consecration were about to 
begin. Tlie Chief Master of Ceremonies, in purple 
cassock and mantle, now appeared at the door lead- 
ing from the inner apartment, and spoke to the 
assembled prelates, nobles, and gentry : " Signors, 
have the complaisance to get ready and form accord- 
ing to rank, so as to walk in procession to the grand 
altar of the cluu-ch. Their Excellencies the Arch- 
bishops, BIsliops, and Prelates, will please enter and 
pay their respects to the Holy Father, and take 
their place near his person at the eiiG of the i>roces- 
sion. The Knights, Chamberlains, and Magistrates, 
followed by the C'lergy, will have the goodness to 
form in this room, and move at the word of com- 



THE TIARA UNWORN. 59 

mand down by the royal staircase." The doors 
were now thrown open, the Prelates entered, and all 
the vast assembly turned to get a glimpse of the 
person of his Holiness. He was seated under a ca- 
nopy in an arm-chair of velvet and gold, at the bottom 
of the inner chamber, arrayed in papal costume, 
white cassock, embroidered stole, and camaur, a 
close-fitting cap of red velvet faced with snow-white 
lawn. As the distinguished retinue walked majes- 
tically in, he rose from his chair and stood with the 
bright rays of the morning sun streaming full upon 
him. He was of tall and commanding presence, in 
the full vigor of manhood, and looked a fitting cen- 
tre figure for the brilliant crowd that gathered 
around him. He gazed with a smile of paternal 
kindness upon the dignitaries as they made their 
obeisance before him, and bowed again and again 
in friendly recognition of some one, an exalted per- 
sonage perhaps, who but two short da^^s before had 
been high above him in office. He now turned to 
address a few words relative to some domestic affair 
to one of the officers of the palace who stood, by his 
side. Suddenly the attention of all present was 
attracted by a strange alteration in his appearance. 
Gazing straight before him he continued the trivial 
instructions he had been giving in a loud and full 
voice, which grew inarticulate, and ended in an in- 
audible whisper. His countenance flushed like 
crimson, and then grew ashy pale. He stretched 
forth his right hand towards a crucifix which stood 



60 THE TIARA UNWORN. 

upon the table beside him, and then with a groan 
sank heavily into the chair from which he had risen. 
The illustrious assembly were struck dumb with 
astonishment and fear. The court archiater, or head 
physician, advanced rapidly to his side, and dropping 
on one knee examined his face, which was already 
distorted and clammy, and communicated the result 
of his observations in a hurried whisper to the vene- 
rable Bishop of Ostia, who stood nearest, as the 
prelate who was to perform the consecration. The 
Bishop, after some moments of hesitation, raised his 
voice, while the crowd held their breath to hear 
what he would say. " Signors," said the venerable 
prelate, " Tlie holy Father has been taken suddenly 
with — " he turned to the doctor with a look of inter- 
rogation. " Death !" was the sorrowful reply. 

The dismay of all present at this terrible an- 
nouncement may be imagined but cannot be de- 
scribed. All festive sounds were hushed, the gor- 
geous decorations of the great Lateran Church were 
taken down and put hastily aside, and couriers were 
despatched in every direction to convey the dread- 
ful tidings, in advance, if possible, of those who had 
left Rome with the news of the new Pope's election. 
The people slowly and gloomily dispersed, and re- 
turned to their homes to discuss the particulars of 
this last terrific excitement, and the lesson upon the 
nothingness of human glory, of which it aiforded so 
striking an example. 



I 



THE TIAKA UNWORN. 61 

Tlie poor sufferer, whom the greatest perhaps had 
envied, and whom none was now too poor to pity, 
was borne to liis couch by his tearful attendants. 
Here he remained in the hands of his immediate 
friends and of his ecclesiastical brethren, anxious to 
administer to him the last sacraments. He lingered 
on for some hours, unconscious the greater part of 
the time, his disease being a stroke of apoplexy, 
and died early on Monday morning. 
-. A Grand Mass of Requiem was sung in St. John 
Lateran, the Church recommended to God the soul 
of his vicar upon earth, summoned at such fearfully 
short notice to appear before his heavenly master, 
and the tiara which was to have been used at his 
coronation was placed upon his coffin, to mark, 
according to custom, the dignity of him whose 
funeral obsequies were being celebrated in the holy 
place. 



% 



THE EMPEROR'S REVENGE. 



THE EMPEROE'S REVENGE. 



ii T DO not know whether the adventures of Sabi- 
X nus have ever been made the theme of a tra- 
gedy by any of our modern Poets. So extraordi- 
nary a subject might well draw tears from spectators 
now, as it did from those who witnessed it wdien it 
happened." 

MUKATOEI. 

(A Ti'agedy was written on the subject by a 
I*Teapolitan author in consequence of the great his- 
torian's suggestion.) 

Julius Sabinus was born at Langres in Gaul of an 
ancient and noble family. About the seventieth 
year of the Christian era he induced the people of 
his native city to rebel against the Romans, and 
formed a powerful army, at the head of which he 
raised the standard of insurrection. His army, how- 
ever, was not long after defeated and scattered in 
every direction by the veteran forces of the Empe- 
ror Yespasian. Sabinus, who might have sought 

4* 



66 THE emperor's revenge. 

and found a safe asylum among neighboring barba- 
rians, preferred to remain in Gaul to be near his 
wife Eponina, to whom he was deeply and fondly 
attached. He called together all his servants and 
freedmen, and gave them to understand that it was 
his fixed determination to put an end to his life by 
taking poison. He freed and dismissed all, with the 
single exception of an old and devoted follower 
named Martial. He then retired into a subterra- 
nean structure, used as a burying vault, near a coun- 
try-house which was his property. In order to give 
a greater appearance of truth to the report of his 
death, he dispatched a messenger to Eponina, who 
assm*ed her that Sabinus was no more, having pe- 
rished by his own hand. The devoted wife, on the 
receipt of these sad tidings, swooned away, and for 
many days refused to partake of any nourishment. 
Sabinus was struck with fear that she might imitate 
in reality the pretended death of her husband, and 
had her therefore secretly apprised of his hiding- 
place. He begged her, however, to forward his de- 
signs, and continue to mourn as if for her husband's 
decease. 

(it was not long before Eponina paid a secret visit 
to Sabinus, and she finally resolved to shut herself 
up with him in his dreadful abode. There the no- 
ble woman continued to dwell, soothing and sup- 
porting the crushed spirit of her unfortunate yet de- 
voted husband. Her anxiety for him was shared 
by her two little boys, one of whom, on account of 



THE emperor's REVENGE. 67 

his premature physical strength, was named Fortis^ 
the other Blandus^ to mark the gentleness and 
sweetness of his disposition. 

'.^^lutarch tells ns that he saw one of these extraor- 
dinary children. They grew with unexampled quick- 
ness, and formed the solace and the hope of their 
doating j)arents. The misfortunes of Sabinus, how- 
ever, had not yet come to an end. It happened one 
day that the trusty freedman Martial, who had en- 
tombed himself with his' former master and mistress, 
and who supplied the little family with food, having 
gone on his usual errand in their behalf, was not 
seen to return. Night set in. Hours of uncertainty 
and fruitless expectation ensued. Midnight came 
on, and Sabinus was seized by the fatal thought that 
either Martial, of whose fidelity he could not doubt, 
had been arrested and the place of his retirement 
found out, or that if undiscovered, he was doomed 
to see his beloved wife and children die of starva- 
tion in their dungeon. 

The dismal forebodings of Sabinus increased, and 
gnawed his very soul with anxiety. He was soon 
stretched upon his pallet of straw, the victim of a 
raging fever. Eponina, ever faithful, bent over 
him, and nursed him with the tenderest care. The 
poor little boys pressed up to their mother in great 
astonishment, asking what was the matter w^ith their 
father, with so much perseverance, that she finally 
told them that they were sure to die from starvation, 
as there was now no hope that Martial would return. 



68 THE EMPETROR'S REVENGE. 

"Why should you grieve for us so much, dear 
mother?" said the innocent and affectionate Blan- 
dus. " We will not die, for I am sure Martial will 
come back. He will not leave us alone to die in 
this dreadful place." The heart-broken parents 
could only exchange glances of unutterable despair. 
They were soon, however, excited to hope by the 
impetuous Fortis, who, with his usual ardor, rose 
abruptly exclaiming : " We will get food for you, 
father ! Are we not able to gather what fruit is to 
be found in the neighboring forest, and even to get 
eggs and birds from the nest ? I have followed 
Martial more than once and climbed the trees for 
them. Let our mother give us a little basket, and 
see what we can do." With great reluctance and 
many injunctions of caution and speed, the fond 
parents finally consented to let the little boys go. 
They w^ould have been all starved to death by 
remaining in the subterranean, without making an 
effort to procure the means of subsistence. 

The boys were provided with a little basket, and 
started on their errand, which they fulfilled with so 
much address that they soon returned with a goodly 
provision of nuts, wild berries, and birds' eggs. 

Tlieir joyful parents overpowered them with 
caresses, and thanked them as their preservers from 
a death worse than that of the sword. Sabinus soon 
recovered his spirits and his health, and the little 
family were hopeful and happy once more. 

Sabinus was not without anxiety on account of the 



THE emperor's REVENGE. 69 

continued absence of his faithful freedman, but as 
many days elapsed and no tidings of danger were 
heard, his suspicions were gradually lulled, and he 
thanked Providence that he and his cherished ones 
were unknown to the outside world or forgotten by 
it altogether. His security, however, was ill-found- 
ed. On the reappearance of the freedman, who was 
reported to have destroyed himself with his master, 
he was quietly placed under arrest, and suspicions 
were excited regarding the death of Sabinus himself. 
As no promise or threat could open the lips of the 
trusty Martial, the Roman authorities instituted a 
noise] ess but careful search in the neighborhood 
where he had been taken. One day when the little 
boys were engaged, as usual, in a foraging expe- 
dition near the cave, they were discovered and 
followed to its entrance, and at the very moment 
when the unhappy parents were about to share the 
gifts of their adventurous offspring, they were struck 
with astonishment and horror by the sight of hostile 
soldiers who entered their hiding-place. Prayers 
) and tears and supplications for mercy were tried in 



vain by the wretched Sabinus and his wife. The 
local magistrates knew that the Emperor had ever 
preserved rankling in his breast a personal enmity 
against the former Gallic general, and that he who 
should give him up to his power would render a 
service not likely to be forgotten. Tlie prisoner was, 
therefore, placed under a strong guard and thus sent to 
Pome, accompanied by his Eponina and her children. 



70 THE emperor's REVENGE. 

They were broiiglit before tlie Emperor on a public 
and solemn occasion, when he was seated on his 
throne, surrounded by a crowd of nobles and citi- 
zens. He received Sabinus with great sternness, 
and upbraided him with the crime of rebellion. It 
became apparent that the anger of the Emperor 
against the former enemy of his power was far 
from having been appeased by time, and that some 
severe retribution was in store for the wretched 
Sabinus. Eponina pressed forward, and presented 
her little children to Yespasian, telling him that 
" she had raised them in a tomb that there might be 
more voices to implore mercy for her husband." 
On hearing the eager pleadings of the devoted 
woman, and on seeing the innocent children who 
knelt by her side and sued with her for "mercy 
and pardon," the emotion of the crowd was in- 
describable. It is probable that this very sympathy 
injured the cause of Sabinus. Tlie general charac- 
ter of Vespasian was one of mildness, but he would 
not look upon the man before him otherwise than as 
a traitor and a coward. Turning his head not to see 
the unhappy suppliants, he commanded them to 
be dealt with according to the military laws of the 
empire. Sabinus and his wife were put to death by 
the axe, and the two children were thrown into a 
dungeon, where they perished with hunger. Tliey 
were found dead upon the stony floor, with their 
arms around each other's neck. The whole family 
thus became extinct, lest new traitors might grow 



THE emperor's REVENGE. 71 

up and follow in the footstej^s of their rebel ancestor. 
Historians notice the fact that this cruel sentence 
left a stigma upon the fair fame of Yespasian, and 
it was attributed to the vengeance of heaven that he 
died soon after, and that his house came in a short 
period of time to a total extinction. 



THE GHOST OF THE BLACK FRIAR. 



THE GHOST OF THE BLACK FRIAR. 



IT was a dreary niglit in JSTovember, 18 — , when 
Mr. Hawthorne, a Protestant English gentleman, 
rode ui> to the gates of the Abbey of St. Barnabas, 

fifteen miles from the town of , on the banks of 

the far-famed river Po. He had started from 
Turin early in the morning, in company with a 
post-chaise, containing his brother and three friends ; 
but having left the highway to inspect a ruin at 
some distance across the fields, had got bewildered 
and lost his road. As nightfall came on, the lights 
from the casements of the Abbey led him, as his 
only protection from exposure, and the banditti who 
then infested the country, to seek hospitality at its 
gates. It was only the sheerest necessity compelled 
him to do so. For Mr. Hawthorne was the son of 
an Evangelical Minister, and his notions of monks 
and their persecuting spirit, were such as may be 
more easily imagined than described. As the sturdy 
lay-brother cautiously unbarred and opened the mas- 
sive convent gate, the traveller's spirit was somewhat 



76 THE GHOST OF THE BLACK FKIAR. 

reassured by the honest good-nature which beamed 
from his face ; but a thrill of distrust ran through 
his veins as he swung back the heavy portal, still 
eyeing the guest, who had dismounted, and stood, 
bridle in hand, at the horse's head. Tlie corners of 
the old monk's handsome mouth at that moment 
assumed something of a smirk, that seemed to speak 
a consciousness of having a high-mettled Briton in 
his power. 

The gravel creaked beneath their feet as they ap- 
proached the stable, where the horse was duly cared 
for, and where his master left him at the invitation 
of the monk, to repair to the strangers' apartment 
and partake of some refreshment, which he stood 
sadly in need of, after his solitary rambles. 

Not long after supper, the Most Eeverend Father 
Abbot was announced, and Mr. Hawthorne, on 
rising, confronted a tall, commanding figure, in 
whose veins coursed some of the proudest blood of 
northern Italy's feudal chieftains. The mingled air 
of grace and majesty which formed the character of 
the Father Abbot impressed his visitor most favor- 
ably, and the paternal kindness with which he wel- 
comed him to the convent halls, and on taking leave 
bade him a cheerful " good night, and God bless 
you," tended wonderfully to dispel his gloom and 
reassure his spirits. Still he could not but think that 
all this friendliness might be only apparent, while 
the true end was to lull all anxiety, and put him 
completely off his guard. He had heard from tra- 



THE GHOST OF THE BLACK FRIAR. 77 

Tellers, of individuals who liad been known to enter 
similar institutions and never left them. He knew 
that an English Protestant would seem no better 
than a heretic in the eyes of the monks, whose blind 
zeal might lead them to any excess, against one 
whom they considered as an enemy of God and 
Holy Mother Church. He retired to rest with a 
heavy heart, and bitterly repented having at all 
entered this strange abode. Mr. Hawthorne was, in 
plain truth, somewhat superstitious. He had been 
led to believe from early infancy that monks and 
friars held communion with the evil spirits of the air. 
He believed, moreover, in presentiment ; and now, 
do what he would, the firm conviction rested on his 
mind that some great mishap was going to befall 
him. He looked anxiously all around the room before 
even approaching his bed, and longer still before he 
laid his head on his pillow. Little did he dream of 
what a night he was about to pass ! ! 
^>*,He had not been asleep more than an hour when 
the wall opposite to his bed exhibited a streak of 
light. Hawthorne gazed intently upon this unex- 
pected vision, so as to be sure it was not the work 
of fancy. He was certain he did not dream, for tlie 
dark figure of a monk in the black friar's garb de- 
tached itself from the bright glare formed on the 
wall, and glided with noiseless tread towards his 
couch. For a moment the traveller's superstition 
got the better of him, his flesh crept, and his hair 
stood on end at the thought that this awful vision 



78 THE GHOST OF THE BLACK FRIAR. 

must be from below. The Ghost glided into a cor- 
ner of the room, between the bed and the wall. 
Hawthorne, in turning, made a slight noise, when the 
figure turned on him, and stood as though shading 
a light which it held between its hands. Its jaws 
opened as its eyes rested upon the traveller, for one 
moment it delayed, then glided to the part from 
which it came, and vanished. 

'^Heavens!" thought the Englishman, as he gra- 
dually recovered from his fright. " Have I truly 
gazed upon the guilty dead appearing again upon 
earth, or was this horrid visitor some emissary who 
precedes the appearance of a cowled assassin ?" The 
more he thought, the less could he understand of so 
strange a mystery. He deemed it prudent not to 
sleep any more, and in spite of hunger, fatigue, and 
cold, he paced up and down the room until morn- 
ing. 

The room was not opened until a late hour, when 
the monk who had served him while at supper, en- 
tered to inform him that a post-chaise liad deposited 
at the gate four gentlemen, who had come expressly 
to inquire if a traveller answering the description of 
Mr. Hawthorne had stopped at the Abbey that 
niirht. When Hawthorne met them in the stran- 
gers' apartment, what was his joy on discovering 
that one of the four. was the British Consul. Fear- 
ful of some foul play, Mr. Hawthorne's brother had 
requested that official to accompany him and his 
friends, when they left Turin. Hawthorne deter- 



THE GHOST OF THE BLACK FEIAR. 79 

mined at once to liave the matter of the unearthly 
vision which had disturbed his slumbers probed to 
the bottom. The Consul declared that he would 
take a judicial account of all the evidence. The 
Abbot was summoned, at Mr. Hawthorne's request, 
and as the Consul represented that the presence of 
all the residents of the Institution would lead to a 
speedier solution of the mystery, the whole commu- 
nity was assembled in the Convent Eefectory. The 
circumstances of the visit of eitlier a ghost or an as- 
sassin, were repeated with nervous accuracy by 
Hawthorne, who was now roused to a high pitch of 
excitement and eager desire of revenge. 

When he had finished, the Abbot turned a search- 
ing look upon all the bystanders, and charged any 
one present who knew of this dreadful occurrence, 
to speak out, in virtue of holy obedience. The Prior 
of the Convent was the only one who spoke, though 
what he said gave little satisfaction ; in fact, rather 
rendered the explanation more difficult. He re- 
marked that there was a door which led to the room 
where Mr. Hawthorne had slept, from the corridor 
of the Infirmary. A silence ensued, when Haw- 
thorne was observed to grow pale and stagger back. 
A An old monk, who had a partial charge of the In- 
//firmary, stepped slowly from the ranks of his breth- 
ren and walked towards the Abbot. Hawthorne 
had recognised at once the thin, pale features, upon 
which the nocturnal lamp had glared. The old man 
bared his silvery head, and bowed tremblingly at his 



80 THE GHOST OF THE BLACK FKIAR. 

superior's feet. A dead silence ensued as lie began, 
in a husky Yoice : " Most Keverend Father Abbot, 
I confess that I know something of this last night's 
occurrence. I myself was the cause of the English- 
man's alarm. I know that Brother Francis is a 
young and giddy lad, and after beads, on my way to 
bed, I stepped into his room to see if Brother Fran- 
cis had remembered to jput water in the pitcher ! ! 
When I got up to the corner where the wash-stand 
is, I saw the Englishman turn around, and for fear 
of waking him up, I ran again out of the room." 



MONASTERY OF LA CAVA. 



5 



MONASTEEY OF LA CAVA. 



ONE of tlie most delightful excursions a traveller 
can enjoy in tlie environs of JSTaples is undoubt- 
edly a visit to the celebrated monastery of La Cava, 
more commonly known in the neighborhood under 
the name of " La TrinitaP Whether he be an 
artist in quest of beautiful scenery, a student of an- 
tiquities, or a devout pilgrim, he is sure to be more 
than satisfied, and to obtain at La Cava both lite- 
rary and religious instruction. 

The monastery is situated in a valley of the "West- 
ern Apennines, four miles from Salerno, and about 
forty-six from Naples. Leaving Naples in the cars, 
you are whirled along the edge of its fjir-famed gulf, 
passing before the royal palace at Portici, then over 
beds of lava, through Torre Annunziata and Torre 
del Greco, behind wdiich stands Vesuvius, with its 
bright column of smoke rising, at times, straight 
from its fiery basis up into mid air, like a pile of 
icebergs, at times bending horizontally before the 
wind, and stretching at an angle with the top of the 



84 MONASTERY OF LA CAVA. 

cone far over the smiling Campania, like some gi- 
gantic serpent of glass. Your attention is occasion- 
ally recalled to the mountain by sudden rebuffs, 
which at that distance sound not much louder than 
the puffing of the engine, but to a person standing 
on the crater assume the reality of deafening thun- 
der, shaking the ground beneath, and followed by 
volleys of cinders, and red-hot fragments of stone, 
and crystals, which shoot high up through the smoke, 
and either fall again into the chasm, or roll down its 
sides accompanied by streams of burning lava. 

You are roused from your contemplation of the 
wonders of nature by the train stopping near Pom- 
peii, whose miniature palaces and lofty temples shine 
brightly in the sun, showing you what man was able 
to erect in the hour of his pride — a monument of 
Yanity to Silence and Death. Angri, Scafati, Pa- 
gani, and Nocera are passed in rapid succession. 
Pagani is endeared to the Christian traveller by the 
memory of St. Alphonsus Liguori, who made it his 
dwelling-place for many years, and whose relics are 
enshrined there, beneath the altar of San Michele, 
tlie mother house of his Order. Cava is only three 
or four miles beyond Nocera, on the road to Sa- 
lerno. 

Few parts of Italy present a view equal to that of 
the neighborhood of La Cava for the singular con- 
trast of wildness and beauty, the whole forming a 
panorama of romantic grandeur which would be 
more naturally expected in the mountains of Swit- 



MONASTERY OF LA CAVA. 85 

zerland than on the smiling shores of Campania the 
Blest. 

As you ride up the winding road that rnns from 
the town of La Cava to the abbey, new hills seem 
to rise suddenly before you, while those you have 
passed are as suddenly lost to the eye. For a long 
time you enjoy only an extremely limited horizon, 
as the rugged path threads its way between a deep 
precipice on one side and a cluster of mountain-tops 
on the other, abruptly severed by narrow ravines, 
and covered with wild vegetation. At an unex- 
pected turn of the mountain-pass, the smiling valley 
of Cava opens beneath you far and wide, with its 
well-cultivated fields, its bright little town, its mean- 
dering river, and the blue hills in the distance, over 
which the sun pours a stream of glory upon the 
enchanting scene. 

From this point of view two objects especially at- 
tract the attention of the spectator. On the left 
hand, the Apennines, swelling in terrific grandeur 
from the valley, present to the eye their rugged 
sides covered with a forest of chestnuts, which form 
a broad mass of deep and dark foliage, and end in a 
lofty ridge, overtopped again by two banks of naked 
rock, which join together at the highest elevation, 
leaving beneath a wide quadrangular opening, which 
appears in the distance like a great window hewn 
tln*oug]i the solid mountain-side by the liand of IS^a- 
ture. This phenomenon has given to the place the 
appellation of Monte Fenestra (Mount Window), and 



86 MONASTERY OF LA CAVA. 

the effect produced by the rays of the sun shining 
through this strange aperture is very striking. On 
the opposite side, a Capuchin convent is descried, 
whose little courts, gardens, and vineyards look like 
a landscape traced by art on the side of the hill, 
which shoots still higher up into a greyish isolated 
rock in the form of a sugar-loaf. This eminence 
was formerly crowned by a little fort, the ruins of 
which are still found scattered about. On an even- 
ing during the Octave of the Corpus Domini a tem- 
porary altar is erected there, and a procession wends 
its way up to it, the festival ending with the Bene- 
diction of the Blessed Sacrament, given, under the 
broad canopy of Italy's blue sky, from that sublime 
height, in full view of all the inhabitants of the val- 
ley, to their families, their dwellings, their fields, 
and forests. The whole ascent is illuminated by 
hundreds of torchss, colored lanterns, and ranges of 
fireworks, the summit ending in a perfect blaze of 
splendor. The awful moment of the terminating 
ceremony is announced by a peal of martial music 
and the echo of innumerable volleys, the whole pa- 
geant, combined with the picturesque grandeur of 
the surrounding scenery, producing an effect which 
is described as truly magnificent. 

But return we to the abbey. To find one's self 
suddenly beneath the gilded ceiling and surrounded 
by the stuccoed walls of the convent church, after 
wandering so long amongst the wild fastnesses of 
the rugged Apennines, is so delightful a surprise as 



MONASTERY OF LA CAVA. 87 

to seem the eifect of magic. This sm'prise is not 
lessened at discovering what treasures are contained 
in this happy wilderness. It will not, we hope, prove 
unacceptable to our readers, if, before describing 
them, we give a brief account of the origin and 
early history of the monastery. 

The date of its foundation has not been established 
with precision, but Pellegrini and Mabillon refer it 
to the beginning of the eleventh century. About 
the year 1006, a monk of illustrious lineage, whose 
family was allied to the Lombard princes of Salerno, 
but who was still more distinguished by his virtues 
than by his noble birth, departed that city, where 
he had the direction of several monastic institutions, 
to find a solitude where he might lead a life of 
penance and prayer, far remote from the noise and 
(j^jgLui^ of a deceitful world. He discovered a spot 
answering his pious intentions in one of the wildest 
defiles of the Metellian valley, called Cava arsiccia^ 
which name w^as afterwards given to the town situ- 
ated a mile and a half from the convent. The holy 
recluse chose for his dwelling an humble hermitage, 
which a monk of Monte Cassino, called Liutius, had 
erected long before in the midst of the w^ilderness, 
hoping to enjoy in its secluded cell that peace and 
retirement of w^hicli Monte Cassino had been depri- 
ved, in consequence of the intrusive election of an 
abbot sustained by the secular power. 

The odor of the sanctity of Alpherio Pappacar- 
bone, for this was the name of tlie new inhabitant 



88 MONASTERY OF LA CAVA. 

of La Cava, soon began to diffuse itself abroad. A 
numerous band of pious persons, who like himself 
were weary of the world, and desired to embrace a 
life of peiiection, came to put themselves under his 
guidance. Alpherio with great reluctance consented 
to assume the direction of these good brethren, and 
obeying the mysterious decrees of Providence, 
which did not permit him to remain in the obscu- 
rity he had so anxiously sought after, erected in due 
time a convent and church in that solitary place. 
The hymn of praise was heard to swell upon the 
mountain breeze from the lips of a numerous choir, 
and the steam of the censer soared towards the skies 
from recesses untrodden before by the foot of man. 
Alpherio dedicated the new institution to the Ever- 
blessed Trinity, and taught his twelve companions 
the rule of Cluny as he had learned it in the monas- 
tery of San Michele della Chiusa in Savoy. While 
ambassador at the court of the Emperor Otho the 
Third, he had been forced by illness during a jour- 
ney to apply for hospitality at the above mentioned 
monastery, where he received the habit at the hands 
of the venerable Abbot Odilon. 

Several years had elapsed, during which Alpherio 
trained up his disciples in a life of piety united with 
study, when he was gathered to his fathers in a 
good old age. He Avas succeeded in the abbacy by 
Leo of Lucca, and then by liis nephew, Peter Pap- 
pacarbone, who, at the request of Leo, had come to 
their monastery from Cluny. 



MONASTERY OF LA CAVA. 89 

The remains of these venerable abbots repose in 
the church originally built by their hands, and are 
justly venerated as the relics of saints. Under their 
direction, the abbey increased in reputation, and 
many of the inhabitants of th^ neighboring valleys 
came to put themselves under its protection. Many 
flourishing townships were formed in this manner 
during the Middle Ages, not only in Italy, but 
in Germany, France, and England. The abbey, 
invested with the rights of a landlord, formed the 
nucleus of the increasing settlement, which was pro- 
tected by the shield of religion, and, when it became 
necessary, by the sword of the abbot, who was not 
backward in defending his tenants, if the insolent 
feudal signior, the marauding Saracen, or the law- 
less bandit dared to attack them beneath the shade 
of the convent w^alls. The origin of the town of 
Cava is usually dated, according to Eustace, from 
the invasion of Genseric, and the destruction of the 
neighboring town of Marciana, whose inhabitants 
took shelter in the mountains, and, at the persuasion 
of the abbot, settled around the monastery. 

It was in its highest degree of splendor when 
Pope Urban the Second, who had been compelled 
by the rudeness of the times to seek refuge in Sa- 
lerno, governed by the Duke Roger Bursa, became 
desirous to give a token of his friendship to its in- 
mates by consecrating the newly-erected church of 
the Most Holy Trinity. Urban had formerly been 

a monk of Cluny, under the name of Odo, and, hav 

5* 



90 MONASTERY OF LA CAVA. 

ing followed tlie Abbot Peter to La Cava, he bad 
passed several years within its walls. 

Among the privileges granted by Urban to the 
monks, the most remarkable one is the elevation of 
Peter to the dignity of a bishop. The Duke Poger 
likewise invested the abbot and his successors with 
temporal dominion over all the lands of the abbey. 
The monks made use of this j^ower to protect the 
neighborhood from the incursions of the numerous 
petty princes whose turbulent spirit never permitted 
them to live in peace with their vassals or in friend- 
ship with their neighbors. The Abbot Costabile, by 
the erection of Castel Abate, provided a refuge for 
the inhabitants of Licosia, as Peter Pappacarbone 
had done for the vassals of the convent spread over 
the Marcine valley by the construction of the strong- 
hold called Corpo delta Cava. 

Nor is this the only obligation the inhabitants of 
j the country are under to the Benedictines. During 
; centuries of ignorance and barbarism, their convent 
! walls were the asylum of science and literature, as 
'.their precious archives amply testify. Par from the 
•gaze of the world, the Italian monk spent his life in 
transcribing the works of the fathers and the classics, 
while the ancestors of those who now upbraid his 
memory with the epithets of lazy^ useless^ and igno- 
rant^ were setting tire to palaces and churches, and 
tumbling to earth the stately monuments of Roman 
grandeur and ingenuity. 

Tliroiigh each succeeding age, the monastery of 



MONASTERY OF LA CAVA. 91 

La Cava continued to be exemplary in tlie mainte- 
nance of religious discipline and in its love for learn- 
ing, until the introduction of commendatary or ho- 
norary abbots caused a degree of relaxation in its 
cloisters which it was found necessary to repress by 
efficacious measures. Cardinal Carafa, the last com- 
mendatary abbot, began the good work by resign- 
ing, with permission of Pope Alexander the Sixth, 
his abbacy into the hands of the Benedictine con- 
gregation of St. Justin of Padua. Through the 
vigilance of the new superiors of the monas- 
tery, the influence of ancient authority was re-as- 
serted, and studies were resumed with an ardor 
which made several names dear to tlie republic of 
letters. 

In the sixteenth century, the town of La Cava, 
which had been elevated by Benedict the JSTinth to 
the rank of a city in 1394, ungrateful to its faithful 
protectors, was led by the spirit of the age to get 
weary of its ancient lords and their patriarchal 
sway. The Order yielded to the earnest solicitations 
of the citizens, and the abbot made over to them 
the rights of temporal jurisdiction with which his 
predecessors had been invested. The city of La 
Cava was subsequently elevated to the rank of a 
bishopric, but the other domains of the abbey re- 
mained in its possession. Things continued in this 
state down to the days when the French conquerors, 
marching into N'aples, drove the bishop from his 
cathedral, and the monks from their convent, substi- 



92 MONASTERY OF LA CAVA. 

tuting tlie musket for the crozier, and the roll of the 
drum for the m'usic of the psalms. 

Fortunately the rapacity of the invaders spared 
the precious archives of the monastery. They were 
not dispersed, nor sold at auction, nor stujffed igno- 
miniously into boxes to be carried to Paris, as it was 
customary to do in similar cases, but being consi- 
dered a section of the records of the kingdom, they 
were confided to persons who guarded them with 
praiseworthy vigilance. After the fall of Joachim 
Murat, the most humane of usurpers, and the return 
of the Bourbons, the monks regained peaceful pos- 
session of their ancient home, and of the treasures 
of learning which it contains. 

After this outline of the history of the convent, 
taken from chronicles preserved in it, we will proceed 
to say something of the attractions it has for a travel- 
ler. The church, which seems at first sight to start 
up, as if by enchantment, in the midst of crags and 
forests, is nearly overhung by the jutting brow of a 
rock that protects it on the northern side. It is 
more to be admired for its solidity, a necessary pre- 
caution in a mountainous neighborhood, visited at 
times by tremendous storms, than for the beauty of 
its architecture. In the vestibule is to be remarked 
the tomb of Queen Sybilla, wife of Roger king of 
Sicily. The style of the interior is a mixture of 
Greek and Homan. The organ-loft is an elegant 
piece of workmanship in the Gothic style, tastefully 
executed by Chevalier Petrelli. The fame of tlie 



MONASTERY OF LA CAVA. 93 

/organ of La Cava lias spread all over Europe. It 
\ has eightj-four stops, and three key-boards of six 
I octaves each. Nine thousand francs were spent, not 
long ago, merely to add new instruments to it. The 
whole receives life from one enormous pair of bel- 
lows, the breath of which is made at pleasure to 
I imitate the sound of almost every known instru- 
ment. The builders of this celebrated organ were 
Quirico and Gaetano Gennaro of Lanciano, whose 
names have been made the theme of their praises 
by nearly all European periodicals. 

Tlie chapel on the right, ornamented with a pro- 
fusion of rare marbles and precious stones, contains 
the relics of St. Alpherio, and his three immediate 
successors in the government of the abbey. In the 
nave of the main altar, on the same side, there is an 
inscription which refers to the consecration of the 
church by Urban the Second, in 1092, and opposite 
to that a piece of marble in the wall wdiicli bears a 
kind of inverted mitre. This device, which is evi- 
dently symbolical, has given rise to the strangest con- 
jectures. That which supposes the said marble slab 
to cover the tomb of the Antipope Burdin, exiled to 
the monastery of La Cava to do penance for the dis- 
turbances he had created, is not the least curious. 
As this conjecture has no sure foundation in history, 
perhaps the symbol in question is nothing but the 
escutcheon of a knight buried at a remote period in 
that part of the church. 

The secluded position and fortified walls of the 



94 MONASTERY OF LA CAVA. 

convent protected its arcliives from those lamentable 
inroads whicli dispersed the literary treasures of 
many other abbeys. There is nowhere else to be 
found a collection of documents so ancient, so im- 
portant, so well preserved, and so judiciously ar- 
ranged. Mabillon calls this collection integerri- 
mum. The admirers of the Darh Ages find in this 
sanctuary vast records of the utmost importance to 
history, and a rich collection of laws, customs, 
deeds, formularies, and donations, the consideration 
of which is indispensable to him who would form a 
just idea of those times, so indiscriminately misre- 
presented and so little understood. Before men- 
tioning a few of the most remarkable documents, 
we cannot refrain from paying a just tribute of 
praise to the venerable religious for the neatness 
and order with which the archives are kept. The 
well- written cajtalogue formed by their patience and 
industry furnishes the curious with the most satis- 
factory classification. In the first column each di- 
ploma or charter is specified ; in the same line on 
the ensuing columns is found its number, the year, 
the month, and indiction of its date, the name of 
the prince or king under whom it issued, the kind 
of writing it exhibits, the quality of its seal, and, 
finally, a summary of its contents. A new chrono- 
logical catalogue has likewise been written, in alpha- 
betical order, in the form of a dictionary. 

The archives are composed of forty thousand 
parchments, upwards of sixty tliousand acts of dif- 



MONASTERY OF LA CAVA. 95 

ferent kinds, and about sixteen Imndred bulls and 
diplomas. 

The first act in this long list is dated A. D. 840. 
By it, Hadelchis, Prince of Benevento, grants to the 
Abbot of St. Sophia the possessions of a certain 
Lambayard forfeited by the crime of rebellion. Two 
other dij^lomas famous in the history of La Cava 
refer to some of its earliest endowments. One bears 
the date of 1025, and the,other of the following year. 
By them, Waimher the Third, Prince of Salerno, 
makes a donation to the abbey of the valley which 
Alpherio had chosen for the site of its erection, and 
of the surrounding woods, which had hitherto been 
hunting-grounds of the prince. To this donation he 
adds ample privileges and exemptions. The seal of 
Waimher is a pendent one of wax, on one side of 
which is a bust of the prince, with his crown and 
sceptre, and the inscription Waimaius Princejps^ and 
on the reverse the closed hand of Justice. By an- 
other act, a subsequent Prince Waimher, styled, 
nevertheless, the Wicked in the Cava chronicle, 
grants to the convent of St. Maximus of Salerno the 
property and person of a certain Lupo, with his wife, 
his children, and grandchildren, for lia^dng treason- 
ably acted as guide to the Saracens when they be- 
sieged Salerno in 870. It is remarkable that, not long 
after, having been dethroned by his rebel sub- 
jects, Waimher the Wicked was obliged to seek 
refuge in this same monastery. The document is 
signed 899, and, although of little importance in 



96 MONASTERY OF LA CAVA. 

itself, it settles tlie date of important historical 
events. 

To the right, upon entering the archives, is per- 
ceived a celebrated diploma of Roger, King of 
Sicilv, dated in the first vear of his reis^n, 1130. 
Tlie king yields up to the monks of La Cava exten- 
sive lands in Sicily, and a goodly number of Chris- 
tian and Saracen vassals. The diploma bears a 
golden seal, with an impression of our Sa^dour stand- 
ing with a book in his hand, and on the reverse a 
full-length portrait of Roger dressed in a Dahnatica^ 
the robe of a deacon. This is intended, most pro- 
bablv, to show his dio:nity of les^ate a latere of the 
Pope in Sicily. At the end of the writ is an auto- 
graph signature of the IN^orman leader in Greek 
letters. 

Tliere is to be found, likewise, an act of Baldwin 
the Sixth, King of Jerusalem, dated anno 1181, which 
grants free navigation to the ships of the monastery 
in the waters of Syria. 

There is an act which speaks of the raorgengabe^ 
or morning-gift, which the bridegroom gave to the 
bride the mornino^ after their marriasre. A law of 
King Luitprand expressly establishes that the mor- 
gengdbe is in no case to exceed the fourth part of the 
donor's property ! A verdict of the year Si4 con- 
demns a certain Theodelgard to pay the sum of nine 
hundi-ed pence, in reparation of her injured honor, 
to a maiden of free condition. Upon Tlieodelgard's 
declaring himself unable to advance the sum, the act 



a 



MONASTERY OF LA CAVA. 97 

mentions that the judge seized him hy the hair^ and 
handed him over to the offended party as security 
/for its payment. An act of 1053 gives the exact 
measure of the foot used by the Lombards ; and 
another, in which ]^icholas, Count of the Principate, 
grants extensive lands to the abbey per fustem^ is 
attached to a small wooden roll, which bears the 
inscription, Nicolaus Comes P. R. G. A privilege 
granted by Pope Alexander the Fourth deserves 
attention for the title which he takes, of Supreme 
Lord of Sicily. 

In a bull of Urban the Second, issued at the time 

he consecrated the church of the Blessed Trinity, the 

Pope confirms, in virtue of the same authority, and 

at the humble request of Roger, the privileges granted 

by this prince to the monastery. We may remark, 

in passing, that among these privileges there is the 

( singular faculty by force of which the religious could 

I save from death any person condemned by the secu- 

i\ lar power. Interesting use might be made of this 

^ privilege in works of fiction, the scene of which lay 

in the Middle Ages. 

The bulls published by different popes, and pre- 
served at La Cava, amount to ^^^ hundred and sixty. 
An exposition of their contents would certainly be 
interesting, but few of them remain unpublished. 
The few we inspected contained grants of jurisdic- 
tional power to the monastery, chiefly by Urban the 
Second, Paschal the Second, Alexander the Tliird, 
and Gregory the Fourteenth. 



98 MONASTERY OF LA CAVA. 

The convent library is not remarkable for the 
number of its books, but it has a magnificent collec- 
tion of manuscripts and rare editions. The manu- 
scripts, of which there are more than sixty, from the 
seventh down to the fourteenth centurv, are in dif- 
ferent respects liighly valuable. We will mention : — 

1. The book of Bede on the history of Italy from 
the ninth to the tenth century, the margins of which 
are covered with interesting notes, written from 
year to year by contemporary witnesses. These 
valuable notes have been published by Muratori, in 
his great collection of Italian Avriters, but unfortu- 
nately with not much accuracy. 

2. Two manuscripts of the fourteenth century, 
elegantly written and beautifully illuminated. 

3. We have purposely reserved for the last two 
of those delightful rarities which the learned travel- 
ler must not expect to meet with more than once at 
every six hundred miles, and over which he gloats 
with the eagerness of a worldly-minded gourmand 
who has a favorite dish, not seen for a considerable 
time, placed unexpectedly before him. One is a 

I Latin Bible of the seventh century, so exquisitely 
j written and so entirely preserved, that it cannot be 
I viewed without amazement, considering its anti- 
// quity. Its neat and regular pages present five dif- 
V ferent kinds of Avriting. In the capitals the uncial 
characters predominate, and in the text the small 
Roman letters, amongst which last there is an occa- 
sional resemblance to the ancient Lombard. This 



MONASTERY OF LA CAVA. 99 

precious manuscript contains all the books of the 
Old and New Testament, but they are arranged dif- 
// ferently from the usual order. The Psalms, of 
which there is i one; more than elsewhere, present 
several variations, which* are found, also, in the Old 
Italic version, circumstances that prove the antiquity 
of the manuscript.'^ 

* "We will add to this description the remarks of Cardinal Wiseman 
upon this celebrated manuscript, which we copy from the first of his 
Tuuo Letters on some Parts of the Controversy concerning 1 John v. *7. 
^ " The first document to which I beg the attention of critics is the 
y'l)eautiful manuscript of the Vulgate preserved in the venerable Bene- 
dictine abbey of La Cava, situated between Naples and Salerno. . . . 
When visiting that part of Italy some years ago, I turned aside to the 
monastery, chiefly for the purpose of inspecting it. I have, however, 
found still more favorable opportunity to study its text. For the inde- 
fatigable librarian of the Vatican, Monsiguor Mai, considered this 
manuscript of sufficient value to deserve an exact transcription. This 
was ordered by Pope Leo XII., and in the course of last summer (1834) 
the last sheets were deposited in the Vatican library by Father Rossi, 
the archivist of La Cava. It will be difficult at a distance to estimate 
the labor and trouble with which this transcript has been effected. It 
contains the Old and New Testaments, copied line for line, and word 
for word, with an exact imitation of the painted and ornamental parts. 
.... The original manuscript is written on a beautiful vellum, in 
large quarto; each page, like the celebrated Vatican (1209), contains 
three columns. There is no division between the words except by an 
occasional point. The character is exceedingly minute; the initial let- 
ters of paragraphs are somewhat larger and stand out of the lines ; the 
marginal notes are ^Titten so small as to require a good lens in order 
to decipher them. A very detailed description has, however, been 
published by the Abbe Razan, who has carefully collected all those 
characteristics which can have weight in deciding its age. I will give 
the result of his investigation." The Abb6 winds up, rather unex- 
pectedly, by concluding that the manuscript is only a thousand yeai's 



100 MONASTERY OF LA CAVA. 

The second rare manuscript alluded to is a Lom- 
bard code of the tenth century. It is the most 
ancient collection of Lombard laws in existence, and 
teems with the most precious items of information. 
This manuscript, in 1642, furnished Camillo Pelle- 
grini with six treatises, which he has published in 
the History of the Lomha/rd Princes. Mabilion, 
the historian Giannone, Pratilli, and the Abbe de 
Kazan, and, still more recently. Carlo Troja, con- 
sulted it with success on several important points. 
When the writer of the present sketch visited La 
Cava, Father de Corne, then director of the archives, 
was engaged in the laborious task of illustrating this 
important remnant of the Middle Ages with expla- 
natory, historical, and philological notes, and was in 
hopes to be able to publish it in due time, with his 
copious and erudite commentary. 

"What distinguishes the library of La Cava is a 
collection of more than six hundred volumes of the 
earliest editions issued after the invention of the art 
of printing. We will mention in particular a book 
beautifully printed at Mayence in 1467; the well- 
known Bible .of Ilailbronn of 1476 ; the first edi- 
tions of Herodotus, Thucydides, and Eusebius ; and 
the first edition of the golden little treatise De Imi- 

old, agreeing with Cardinal Mai in attributing it at least to the seventh 
century. 

The marginal notes refer to the errors of the day. For example, 
opposite the famous text of John v. *7, the comment says, '* Audiat hoc 
Arius et c<eieri." 



MONASTERY OF LA CAVA. 101 

tatione Christi. Moreover, St. Augustine De Civi- 
tate Dei, printed by the Benedictines of Subiaco (if 
we remember well) in 1465, the first book ever 
printed in Italy. Tliere is also a Juvenal of 1478 ; 
a Tibullus of 1488 ; and, finally, Boccaccio's book 
De Genealogia Deorum, printed for the first time at 
Reggio, an edition of the rarest value. 

The library of La Cava like^vise possesses four hun- 
dred impressions in the black letter. In running 
over these works, an idea can be had of the varia- 
tions undergone by that Gothic character, so perti- 
naciouslv adhered to for a Ions; time, then all but 
universally abandoned. The Germans are the only 
people who have preserved an alphabet somewhat 
similar to the old-fashioned calligraphy. 

In examining the earliest productions of the press, 
the curious are often surprised while turning over 
i the leaves of books, the strong white ^^aper of which, 
', the even, neat, and clear type, is scarcely equalled 
, by the best specimens of our own times, after all the 
ji myriad inventions and improvements of three cen- 
turies. 

"VYe have only to mention a few of the most beau- 
tiful paintings which adorn the quarters occupied by 
the abbot, and then bid adieu to La Cava. 

We will do it briefly, mentioning, — 
r^^ 1. A Sacra Famiglia on wood, attributed to Ra- 
\ phael, and at least one of the finest productions of 
that school of smiles and sunbeams. 

2. Two paintings by Pietro Perugino ; viz. The 



102 MONASTERY OF LA CAVA. 

Adoration of the Magi and The Reswrrection of our 
Saviour. 

3. An Assumption by Andrea Sabatini of Salerno, 
a scholar of Raphael. 

4. Judith^ by Hundorst, better known as Glierado 
delle Notti. According to the well-known style of 
this master, the whole scene is artificially illuminat- 
ed from one point, and the effect is very striking. 

5. Jacobs disguised as Esau, receiving the blessing 
of his aged father, by the same artist. 

6. The Burial of our Saviour. The author is Ja- 
copo da Ponte, commonly called H Bassano. 

Y. St. Jerome, by Mattias, a Calabrian priest. 
There is in the convent a St. Augustine, by the same 
author, which we did not see, but it was represented 
to us as possessing great merit. 

8. All these are admirable, more or less, for their 
particular perfections. But the w^riter will never 
forget the ecstasy of surprise and emotion with 
which he stood for a considerable time contemplating 
a Mater Dolorosa, by that gentle and feeling mas- 
/] ter, Carlino Dolce. The artist must have been pos- 
7 sesscd by a poetical desire to produce, living and 
^ breathing, the heavenly vision which existed in his 
imagination, and he has been half successful. In the 
features of the Blessed Mother there is a radiance of 
celestial beauty, tempered and spiritualized by 
noble, unaffected modesty, that is truly inimitable. 
The delicate form seems to stand out from the can- 
vas, and tlie beautiful hands, which she holds joined 



MONASTERY OF LA CAVA. 103 

before her breast, are of such astonishing perfection, 
tliat the more they are examined, the more yon are 
inclined to believe them real and not painted. The 
composition and finish of the drapery leave nothing 
to be desired. 

But these are the minor beauties of the painting. 
The artist has contrived to give such a settled 
expression of resigned yet deep grief to the heavenly 
features of the bereaved Mother, to the eyes, to the 
mouth, and breast heaving with a long-drawn sigh 
w^hicli relieves not the heart, that the beholder inevi- 
tably feels the influence of sorrow in his own breast. 

9. Another piece, the healthy and natural cast of 
which is very remarkable, is a Judgment of St, 
Benedict. It is by Albert Durer. A youthful 
monk, guilty of some flagrant transgression of the 
rules, is brought before the saint by another monk 
who stands as his accuser. St. Benedict is seated. 
His mild and charitable look is that of a man in 
whom paternal authority is directed by wisdom and 
virtue. Before him stands the young man, whose 
pale, unsettled features, downcast look, and timid 
attitude belie the exculpation which he attempts to 
deliver. By his side is another monk, of maturer 
years, whose hard and sunburnt countenance, though 
bearing the expression of severity, still make you 
believe him to act only from an honest sense of duty, 
while with pointing finger he shows the companion 
whose fault he is repeating to their superior. The 
last figure is that of a monk whose salient forehead, 



104 MONASTERY OF LA CAVA. 

and eyes vaguely turned towards the culprit, are a 
fine portrait of unconcerned curiosity, and contrast 
with the earnestness of the others. The distri- 
bution of light, the simplicity of composition, the 
nature and truthfulness of the parts, and, above all, 
the masterly execution of the heads, do immortal 
honor to the I^uremberg artist. 

The monastery has been visited from time to time 
by several of the crowned heads and princes of Eu- 
rope, and by nearly every savant who travelled as 
far as Pompeii ; and amongst a vast number of cele- 
brated names which we saw in a blank book on the 
library table, we remember to have observed that of 
Cardinal Mai, and the well-known handwriting of 
( Sir Walter Scott of Ahhotsford, 



THE SOLDIER'S PURGATORY. 



THE SOLDIER'S PURGATORY 



¥ 



HAT stirs the brake on the lonely hill, 
When the wayward evening breeze is still ? 
What flickering beam shines forth and falls 
'Midst the ruined pile of the castle walls ? 
That flickering beam, so pale and damp, 
Is not the gleam of the fire-fly's lamp ; 
And no mortal breath, when the breeze is still, 
Sigiis through the leaves on the lonely hill. 

That desert pile in the days of old 

Was filled with a crowd of warriors bold, 

And through its stately halls the clang 

Of clashing sword and buckler rang. 

But now the barren fig waves green 

O'er the spot where the mail-clad forms were seen, 

Its roots entwme around chiselled stones, 

And the ancient warrior's tombless bones. 

When after toll of Vesper bell, 

The moonbeam sleeps in the silent dell, 

A ghastly band is seen to roam 

Through the roofless wards of its ancient home. 

But fiendish revelry sounds not there, 

The belated traveller's ear to scare ; 

With noiseless tread they move along 

The unbending grass, a harmless throng. 



108 THE soldier's PURGATORY. 

And yet a fiery helmet glows 

Upon each pallid warrior's brows, 

And they drag the links of a heavy chain 

With weary step along the plain. 

Then- breasts are harrowed with frequent sighs, 

And the big tear starts in their heaven-turned eyes. 

Then o'er their cheeks and hauberk rolls, — 

It springs from the depth of chastened souls. 

And thus in grief shall they wander still, 

'Mid the shadowy pile, on the desert liill ; 

From Vesper hour till Matin bell 

Awake the Monk in his lonely ceU. 

Yet a time shall come when they'll cease to roam 

Through the roofless wards of their ancient home ; 

When with hymns of joy, in robes of light, 

They will soar from the silence and gloom of night. 



EZZELINO DA ROMANO, SUENAMED 
"THE CRUEL." 



EZZELINO DA ROMANO, SURNAMED 
"THE CRUEL." 

A CHARACTER OF THE THIRTEENTH CENTURY. 



r' is well known that the tragedy of Romeo and 
Juliet owes its origin to incidents which took 
place in the city of Yerona, when 

" Civil broils, bred of an airy word 
By Capulet and Montague, disturbed 
The quiet of the town." 

Tliese rival factions were a subdivision of the two 
grand parties known as the Guelphs and Ghibel- 
lines. Yerona thus divided was the first stage where 
Ezzelino da Romano, one of the most notorious cha- 
racters of his age, appeared before the world. By 
historians he is represented as a man of no ordinary 
energies, but who by turning them to evil became 
the scourge of his contemporaries, and the execra- 
tion of posterity. Tradition describes him as the 
most cruel of tyrants, and the poets of Italy have 
treated him still worse. Ariosto sums up his cha- 



112 EZZELINO DA KOMANO, 

racter by calling him a son of the Devil, who did so 
much mischief that Marius, Sjlla, Nero, and Cali- 
gula may be considered as merciful when compared 
to him. 

" Ezzelino immanissimo tiranno 
Che fia creduto figlio del Dimonio 
Eara troncando i sudditi tal danno 
E distruggendo il bel paese Ausonio 
Che pietosi appo lui stati saranno 
Mario, Silla, Neron, Cajo, ed Antonio." 

Orlando Eurioso. 

Dante, though a fellow-Ghibelline of our hero, 
describes in a certain part of the infernal regions a 
lake of boiling blood, from which the heads of such 
monsters of cruelty as Dionysius of Sicily and Alex- 
ander Pheroeus are seen to emerge, only, however, 
to be j)ierced by the arrows of Centaurs ranging on 
the banks. While he is looking at them the sage 
Chilon, his guide, pointing to one of them, says : 
" Seest thou those horrid features, overshadowed 
by dark locks ? 'Tis Ezzelino." 

" E quella fronte die ha il pel cosi' nero 

E' Azzolino." 

Inferno, Canto XII. 

It cannot but prove interesting to have a brief 
sketch of a person handled so unmercifully by such 
celebrated authorities, more especially as his chro- 
nicle furnishes an idea of matters and things during 
the thirteenth century, in the leading events of which 
he bore a prominent part. 



SURNAMED "THE CRUEL." 113 

Ezzelino da Homano, so called from the name of 
tlie village where he was born, began to rise into 
importance about the year 1225, when, uniting him- 
self with Salinguerra, a famous desj)erado chief of 
those days, he appeared in Yerona to reinforce the 
Montecchi, who had just driven out of the city 
Count Eichard di San Bonifazio, head of the Cap- 
pelletti orGuelphs. The good services rendered by 
Ezzelino to this fjiction, gained him, in Yerona, a 
little power, which he increased by his subtlety 
and boldness. He had frequent opportunities of 
signalizing himself on account of the unceasing 
broils between the cities of Lombardy and the 
Marca Trevigiana, torn by numerous factions, each 
division of w^hich was headed by some w^arlike noble 
or ambitious adventurer, desirous to increase the 
fame of his house, and enlarge the number of his 
adherents. His first care was to expel from Yerona 
the nobles who adhered to Count Eichard, reducino: 
their palaces and towers to ashes. 

We find him soon after on horseback, at the head 
of his Yeronese, crossing the country in the direc- 
tion of Yicenza. Through the assistance of his bro- 
ther, Alberico da Eomano, who had some little power 
there, he entered the place, and the Yeronese war- 
cry terrified the unw^ary Yicentines, who flew to 
arms and fought desperately in the streets and tho- 
roughfares. Although the forces of Padua soon 
came to their assistance, Ezzelino defeated them 
with great slaughter ; and having created Alberico 



114 EZZELINO DA ROMANO, 

Governor of Yicenza, lie returned to Yerona proud 
of having detached a city from the Guelph party. 

The Paduans, however, had not to wait long for 
an opportunity of retaliating upon Ezzelino. He 
had got into his possession the castle of Fonte, allied 
to the Paduans, but they fell upon him with such 
determination that he was compelled, much to his 
confusion, to retreat before their superior forces. 

They got word soon after, that he had caused the 
city of Treviso, w^hich had named him its citizen, to 
take arms and proceed against the Bishops of Feltre 
and Belluno, and that, putting himself at the head 
of the Trevisans, he had taken those two little towns. 
The Paduans exhorted the citizens of Treviso to 
get rid of Ezzelino, and not having succeeded, they 
formed a league against him with the Patriarch of 
Aquileja and the Marquis of Este, and marched 
towards Treviso, setting fire to everything they 
found on the way. Feltre and Belluno w^ere finally 
given up to the aggressors, and Ezzelino was obliged 
to go and create mischief in some other quarter. 
He owed thenceforth a grudge to the Marquis Azzo 
D'Este, which time did not make him forget, as we 
shall see. 

The old dissensions of Yerona had not subsided 
yet, and they were stirred up anew by the election 
to the office of Governor of Giustiniani, a patrician 
of Yenice, who not only recalled the exiled nobles, 
but received into the city Count Richard of San Bo- 
nifazio, head of the Capulet faction. The jealousy 



SURNAMED " THE CRUEL." 115 

of the Moutecclii at tliis occurrence can be easily- 
imagined. Ezzelino and liis old associate, Salin- 
guerra, blew the coals ; and at their instigation, and 
with their assistance, Giustiniani was driven from 
the town, and the Count, with several of his adhe- 
rents, was thrown into prison. The principal part 
of the Count's faction took refuge in the castle of 
San Bonifazio, where they elected a Governor, and 
implored the help of the commune of Padua. Every 
device they could think of was tried by the Paduans 
to coax or terrify Ezzelino and Salinguerra into the 
liberation of Count Hichard, but in vain. They and 
the Marquis of Este, with other friends of the impri- 
soned nobleman, even begged that holy and learned 
preacher. Friar Anthony of Lisbon, better known 
afterwards under the title of St. Anthony of Padua, 
to induce the Veronese to set the Count free. Wil- 
ling to do anything that might lead to restore peace 
among brothers, the good saint proceeded to Yerona, 
and tried both reason and entreaty with the chief 
men of the city, showing them the direful conse- 
quences which would ensue from their refusing to 
release a prisoner obtained by means which they 
knew themselves to be fraudulent and unjust. His 
exhortations were cast to the w^ind on account of the 
state of exasperation in which all minds were at the 
time, so that after doing all that lay in his power, he 
left them, and returned again to Padua. 

The effect of this unchristian obstinacy was, that 
not only the forces of Padua and the Marquis of 



116 EZZELINO DA EOMANO, 

Este poured into the territory of Yerona, but even 
Modena and Mantua were drawn into their side of 
the quarrel. Several towns and castles were reduced 
to ashes, and the tide of W' ar rolled on to the very 
gates of Yerona. Blind attachment to a favorite 
leader, and factious enmity, may account for many 
[outrages, to one who understands the state of Italy in 
I the middle ages, when every man was a warrior, 
every warrior's country was the town of his birth or 
adoption, and every town's code of honor the prin- 
ciples of its petty prince or baron. But even these 
meagre excuses cannot palliate the conduct of Ezze- 
lino. He respected no laws, and cared for no stand- 
ard, but served in the capacity of leader, man-at- 
arms, or cut-throat, the master whose influence he 
could use to the best advantage for the accomplish- 
ment of his private ends. 

In the year 1232, Frederic II., Emperor of Ger- 
many, was in Bavenna. Having done his utmost 
on several occasions to sow dissension among the 
Italian commonwealths, and show his ingratitude 
towards the Bope, by whom he had been crowned, 
changing his tact witli every change of fortune, but 
still getting worse as he grew older, this monarch 
deemed it his interest in the present year to maim 
and disable, as far as possible, the cities of Lom- 
bardy, which had formed a confederacy against him. 
Ezzelino was among the foremost to aid, by his 
counsel and his ai-m, lliis phit designed for the ruin 
of his native country ; and tlie foreign tyrant was 



SURNAMED " THE' CRUEL." 117 

SO much pleased with his advances, that he subse- 
quently rewarded his zeal with the hand of an ille- 
gitimate daughter. One of the first acts of tlie infa- 
mous Ezzelino was to imprison Guido da Eho Po- 
desta, or Governor of Yerona, with the judges, and 
to give the city into the hands of the Count of Tyrol 
and other officers, who, accompanied by a hundred 
and fifty horsemen, besides a hundred cross-bow 
men, took possession of Yerona in the Emperor's 
name. The reward of the traitor was the captaincy 
of a foreign force, at the head of which he resisted 
those of the confederates who opposed him, sacking 
and burning their towns and strongholds, besides 
giving them a warm reception whenever they 
showed their faces in the territory of Yerona. 

Division became so rife in Lombardjr, and the 
two parties of the Imperials and Confederates so 
violent against each other, that Pope Gregory IX., 
who had changed his residence from Avignon again 
to Kome, and succeeded in quelling dissension there, 
resolved to try to open the eyes of the Lombards 
upon the danger to wliich tlie whole country was 
exposed by their interminable feuds. The manner 
in which the Pope set about completing his wise 
and pious purpose, is characteristic of those times 
when respect for religion, feudal fanaticism, and 
warlike passions were the elements which, mingling 
toget]ier, formed every man, and predominated over 
him by turns. 
The Pope elevated to the honor of Envoy Apos- 



118 EZZELINO DA ROMANO, 

tolic, and endowed witli ample faculties, Fra Gio- 
vanni da Yicenza, of the order of St. Dominic, a 
man of acknowledged sanctity and persuasive elo- 
quence, charging him to represent to the jealous 
cities of Lombardy, with words of heavenly unction, 
the grievous sins and the injury to their native land 
ensuing from their detestable brawls, and to exhort 
them to sincere repentance, and to the maintenance 
of the brotherly love nearly forgotten amongst them. 
Friar John was soon upon the field of battle. So 
great was the fame of his virtue and eloquence, that 
the inhabitants of Padua turned out in their best 
clothes to receive him ; and having met him on the 
road between their city and Monselice, taking him 
up with great devotion, they put him on their car- 
roGcio or war-chariot, and drew him fairly into the 
town with loud demonstrations of joy. The good 
friar spoke to them, and afterwards to their trouble- 
some neighbors, w4th such effect that even the Mon- 
tagues of Yerona promised to behave themselves 
better in future ; and the wicked Ezzelino himself 
swore to all the holy father had ordered for their 
greater good. Several of the cities, at the sugges- 
tion of Friar John, gave liberty to those of different 
factions who were confined in their prisons, and 
made away with such parts of their statutes as had 
been the cause of civil contention. Encouraged by 
the beneficial effects of his mission, and desirous to 
give stability to the peace which had been obtained, 
Friar John, in concert witli the principal chief- 



SURNAMED "THE CRUEL." 119 

tains and councils of the towns, appointed a day 
upon wliicli all the communes should meet, for the 
general good and tranquillity. He chose for the 
rendezvous an extensive plain near the river Adige, 
four miles from Yerona. 

A great day for the cities of Lombardy was the 
Feast of St. Augustine, August 28th, 1233. The 
cities of Yerona, Mantua, Brescia, Yicenza, Padua, 
and Treviso, had poured out their warriors in arms, 
and all their people — men, women, and children — 
in their gayest attire. Each population was preced- 
ed by the carroccio tastefully and gaudily 'arranged. 

This carroccio was a large chariot on four wheels, 
surmounted by a mast, on the top of which was a 
golden apple, or some other device, and was des- 
tined to bear the standard of each little common- 
wealth. The chariots were decked with precious 
cloths of different colors. They were greatly in use 
in the thirteenth century, forming as it were the 
palladium of each town, whose inhabitants it pre- 
ceded to the field, and by whom it was defended at 
every peril ; for it was a lasting dishonor to a town 
to lose its carroccio in battle. Sometimes the chief- 
tain addressed his feudsmen from it, and sometimes 
even mass was celebrated on a portable altar erected 
upon it. (Yide Sismondi, and Muratori delle An- 
tichita Italiane, Tom. I. P. 2, page 198.) 

Multitudes had come to the great assembly from 
cities more distant than those mentioned above. 
The inhabitants of Bologna, Ferrara, Modena, &c., 



120 EZZELINO DA EOMANO, 

appeared unarmed, preceded by tlieir bisliops, and 
walking barefoot in sign of penance. The most 
celebrated chieftains of the day were on the ground, 
and most conspicuous amongst them the Marquis of 
Este, the Signors of Comino, Ezzelino da Romano, 
and his brother Alberico. According to the chro- 
niclers of the day, the number of people present 
was more than four hundred thousand, with no less 
than ten bishops. 

Such a spectacle had rarely been seen in Italy 
before, and the circumstances of such an extraordi- 
nary assemblage must have inspired the worthy 
Dominican preacher with no common eloquence. 
From a platform sixty feet high, he harangued his 
immense audience, exhorting them in the name of 
God and the Holy Father to give to each other the 
kiss of peace, and forswear those fatal brawls which 
tended only to exhaust and weaken their country, 
until it became an easy prey to the watchful invader. 

His words had an immediate effect upon every 
heart. The Guelph chieftain embraced the Ghibel- 
line whom he had met on the field of battle, and 
armed to the teeth, three days before ; the Capulet 
kissed the cheek of the Montague whom he would 
have run through the body, the preceding week, for 
'' biting his thumb" at him ; and even the people 
of Yicenza settled all quarrel with the Florentines, 
who the year previous had not only besieged their 
walls, but thrown into the town, by means of a ma- 
chine, the carcase of a donkey as a compliment to 



SURNAMED "THE CRUEL." 121 

the inhabitants. Tlie peace was mutually promised, 
agreed to, and stijDulated by all parties, and the aw- 
ful sentence of excommunication fulminated against 
him who should be the first to destroy so holy a 
work. 

Friar John witnessed the successful result of his 
mission with unbounded satisfaction, and gratitude 
to God, who had effected it. That the peace might 
be still better established^ he proposed to the assem- 
bled parties the marriage of Adelaide, daughter of 
Alberico da Komano, whose brother Ezzelino was 
the most conspicuous among the Ghibellines, to 
Prince Einaldo, son of the Marquis of Este, chief of 
the Guelphs. This proposition was applauded by 
all, and the articles of the peace were inscribed and 
signed in a document which is still extant. (Yide 
Muratori, Antiq. Ital.) 

Friar John had certainly arranged matters satis- 
factorily amongst the different populations which 
had listened to his address on the banks of the 
Adige ; and had they been left quietly to them- 
selves they would no doubt have remembered and 
I kept his good advice. But many of the chieftains 
! had only feigned a desire for a peace which would 
i have deprived them of their favorite adventures, 
and the rich spoils which were their object. Hence 
it is that they only waited for a plausible pretext to 
destroy the universal reconciliation which had ap- 
parently been effected. New difficulties began to 
arise very soon, and only a few days passed before 



122 EZZELINO DA ROMANO, 

several of the cities broke off from the compact at 
the instigation of these malicious advisers, and only 
a few months elapsed before all Lombardy was again 
in a blaze. 

It was in vain that the good Dominican made 
every effort to compose these new dissensions. In 
vain did he reason with the turbulent princes, and 
urge them to maintain the stipulations so solemnly 
agreed upon at the famous meeting. Finding eve- 
rywhere a deaf ear turned to his remonstrances, and 
seeing all his attempts fruitless, he retired to his 
convent in Bologna to meditate upon the instability 
of human affairs. If the pious father, through hu- 
man weakness, had allowed some little sentiment of 
self-complacency to arise in his heart at the time of 
his great speech, and its wonderful effect upon the 
multitudes, he learned a lesson upon human nature, 
which must have been extremely useful to him in 
his after-life. It is unfortunate that he did not dic- 
tate in a form to be preserved, the oration which he 
had delivered to the Lombards, which must have 
been a rare specimen of popular eloquence, and his 
meditations upon the sequel of events that followed 
it, which would be probably no less instructive and 
entertaining. 

Among the few documents relative to those extra- 
ordinary circumstances, which have been handed 
down to posterity, is a letter of Pope Gregory IX. 
to Friar John, wherein he expresses his entire satis- 
faction with his praiseworthy exertions, and consoles 



' SURNAMED "THE CRUEL." 123 

him for their signal and utter failure to effect what 
they v/ere intended for. 

The quarrelsome Lombards paid dearly very soon 

after for violating promises so solemnly made ; and 

the chief cause of the misfortunes which befell 

them, was the incorrigible Ezzelino. This turbulent 

spirit could find no pleasure in a peaceable state of 

I things, so unlike that of his younger days. His first 

! iniquitous act was to create a renewal of civil war in 

i Verona. But not satisfied with so small a scheme 

of mischief, he engaged in a far more perilous and 

treacherous enterprise, by writing to Frederic II., 

Emperor of Germany, exhorting him to pass the 

Alps and enter Lombardy at the head of a powerful 

army. Frederic was not slow in following the 

advice of his faithful adherent. 

He resolved to carry war into the very heart of 
the country, to urge on and encourage its progress 
by his presence on the spot, and to strike at once at 
the strongest bulwarks of the national party. Wliat- 
ever advantages his cause might have obtained in 
Lombardy, the two important cities of Milan and 
Brescia were yet unconquered, and their resistance 
to all the former efforts of his faction rankled in the 
mind of the proud Emperor. By the advice of 
Ezzelino he determined, upon his arrival in Italy, to 
attempt first the capture of Brescia as the easier to 
overcome of the two obnoxious cities. 

A noble army bearing the Emperor's standard 
entered Yerona in 1238. Several cities of Italy had 



124 EZZELINO DA ROMANO, 

sent their forces to strengthen the German ranks. 
A number of Saracens had likewise been enlisted in 
his pay. But those who seem to have attracted the 
greatest share of admiration were a band of English 
warriors, armed at all points, and mounted on richlj 
caparisoned steeds. They presented themselves to 
Frederic, offering him at the same time a large sum 
of money as a token of friendship from his kinsman 
Henry III. They were gallant fellows, these Island 
Knights, and would have liked better, although they 
said but little, to deal their blows on French mail, 
than to spend their lives in sacking and burning 
Italian hamlets, in the cause and quarrel of a foreign 
prince. 

The imperial army, after having reduced the sur- 
rounding country to a howling desert, sat down 
before Brescia, strong in number, and well provided 
with the different machines of siege then in use, the 
Emperor being firmly resolved not to withdraw from 
the place before having planted the German standard 
on. the towers of its citadel. 

He had, however, no easy bone to contend for. 
The Brescians were distinguished among their neigh- 
bors for enterprise and perseverance, and under- 
standing well that from Frederic and Ezzelino they 
had no mercy to hope for, they determined to fight 
to the last for their beloved city, and at least sell 
tlieir lives at a price not soon to be forgotten. 
While the hostile army was advancing, they had 
furnished the town with all the stores necessary to 



SURNAMED "THE CRUEL." 125 

sustain a lengthened siege. It discouraged tliem in 
some measure to think that they were totally de- 
prived of the warlike machinery which rendered the 
beleaguering army doubly formidable. But they 
were fortunately delivered from this exigency by an 
occurrence which they considered as a special inter- 
position of Providence in behalf of their just cause. 

Some of their people, while foraging in the vici- 
nity for provisions, had enti'apped a Spaniard on his 
way from Germany towards the imperial camp, and 
brought him prisoner into Brescia. This traveller 
was discovered to be a man of great acquirements 
in various branches, but above all a thorough adept 
in the art of constructing all manner of engines of 
war, offensive and defensive, and in the science of 
equipping and directing them, whatever their shape 
or calibre. His new entertainers were delighted at 
discovering so much knowledge in their unwilling 
visitor, and to show their high esteem for his talents 
they proposed at once to his choice, either to serve 
the ancient city of Brescia according to his craft, or 
to be set up as a target for their cross-bows. The 
good Castilian did not stand to deliberate, but ap- 
plied himself lustily to work for his new employers, 
and with such efficacy that they were soon provided 
with wooden towers, battering-rams, manganoes^ t/ra- 
huccos^ and other destructive implements for de- 
molishing parapets, and hurling stones, as well as 
their adversaries. 

The siege had been going on for some days, when 



126 EZZELIIs^O DA ROMANO 



tlie detestable Frederic, irritated at the accuracy 
with which they aimed pieces of iron and heavy 
fragments of rock at his breast- works and machinery, 
which they broke and scattered, frequently killing the 
soldiers who managed them, had recourse to the 
expedient of bringing several Brescian prisoners 
from Cremona, and tying them to his engines, so 
that their friends and relatives might be obliged to 
desist from further attem]3ts, or kill their unfortunate 
kinsmen in the act. It is not certain whether the 
besieged were driven by despair to continue their 
defence as before, or whether they desisted from bat- 
tering the imperial works at so fearful a sight. But 
goaded on, and belabored so piteously by the unfeel- 
ing adversary, they retaliated on his cruel device, 
stringing np by the heels the numerous Germans 
they had in their possession, and exposing them all 
along the outside of the ramparts to the strokes of 
their brutal Emperor. 

What irritated Frederic still more were the sorties 
which these shrewd and daring Italians effected at 
intervals on his troops, retiring into the gates of their 
stronghold almost before the heavy Germans knew 
where the blows came from. These sorties were of 
great damage to the imperial army. 

It is recorded, especially, that on the night of Oc- 
tober 9th, while the soldiers were sleeping away the 
fatigues of the day in the camp, the Brescians, led 
out by their chieftains, contrived to get near the 
place where Frederic lay, without being observed by 



SURNAMED "THE CRUEL." 127 

tlie German guards. They roused the guards with 
terrific shouts, and, rushing upon them simultane- 
ously, opened their way towards the imperial tent, 
killing or disabling every one who opposed them. 
The Emperor, with great difiiculty, escaped being 
taken prisoner on this occasion, to the no small 
regret of the Brescians. 

He soon became disgusted with the siege. Every 
effort against the town proved unsuccessful, and 
seemed only to increase the daring of the citizens. 
It became unsafe even to walk at any distance from 
the camp. While the Emperor had collected all his 
forces in the design of overwhelming Brescia, the 
Milanese, seeing the country clear, spread their 
armed men over the neighborhood, giving a severe 
lesson to several of the towns where Frederic had 
been well received. They even bearded the Em- 
peror in his own quarters. For, having learned 
from the scouts, whom they always kept on the alert, 
that a certain part of the imperial lines was rather 
negligently guarded, on account of the security 
afforded by its position, they equipped a band of the 
hardiest adventurers in their service, who, coming 
unexpectedly upon the vulnerable point, attacked 
it so desperately as to force it under the nose of 
the Emperor, and throw themselves into the town to 
reinforce its heroic garrison. 

At length, seeing that all his endeavors to carry 
tlie phice were fruitless, he set fire to his machines, 
and sullenly drew off his army, retreating towards 



128 EZZELINO DA ROMAXO, 

Cremona. This event seriously injured the reputa- 
tion of Frederic II., and increased the glory of the 
free city of Brescia, which celebrated his departure 
with becoming exultation. 

Our hero, Ezzelino, never cared to work under a 
superior, however he might value his assistance or 
protection. Leaving, therefore, the Emperor at an 
early period to wear out the lives of his men and his 
own patience under the walls of Brescia, he had 
engaged in a scheme of his own, which had for its 
object the conquest of the rich and powerful city of 
Padua. Ezzelino effected its capture by an adroit 
use of the fear excited by the presence in Italy of 
Frederic and his powerful army, and by means of a 
treacherous correspondence which he kept up with 
the Ghibelline faction in the city. The city had no 
sooner fallen into the power of the imperial party, 
than Ezzelino made himself its Governor. He 
inflicted a cruel revenge upon the inhabitants, for 
their constant adherence to the Guelphs, and the 
trouble they had formerly given him. 

The indignities which he committed against the 
best and most noble citizens, procured a number of 
enemies for him and his part}^, so that a secret invi- 
tation was sent to the Marquis of Este, to come and 
deliver Padua from the tyrant and his German sa- 
tellites. Tlie brave Marquis accepted, perhaps too 
hastily, the invitation thus tendered to him, and 
moved rapidly towards Padua, in hopes that his 
friends would open one of its gates to him, as they 



SURNAMED "THE CRUEL." 129 

had promised. But in place of tliis he came upon 
Ezzelino, who was in readiness for him, and who gave 
him a reception as warm as it was unexpected. This 
terrified his followers so much that, struck with a sud- 
den panic, they deserted their ensigns almost to a man, 
and the Marquis owed the preservation of his life to 
his horse, that bore him nobly beyond the reach of 
'danger. The Marquis resolved to be more cautious 
for the future, in his proceedings with the Ghibel- 
lines, a purpose which afterwards saved him more 
than once from their toils. 

Ezzelino, as a reprisal, occupied the town of Este, 
and its garrison, a few days afterwards, was filled with 
Germans and Saracens. He also made an attempt 
to storm Montagnana, another feud, which he hoped 
to carry as easily as that of Este. But the people 
resisted him with great determination ; and even 
set fire, in broad daylight, to a tower under which 
he was at the time, and from which he made a very 
narrow escape. He retired from before the town, 
and returned to Padua. 

Ezzelino had the honor of giving a splendid recep- 
tion there to Frederic and his suite, and of spending 
nearly two months with him and the Empress, in 
the monastery of Santa Justina. They passed their 
time in hunting, and in taking long walks over the 
surrounding country, which abounds in beautiful and 
romantic scenery. A venerable Italian chronicler 
tells us, with pardonable indignation, that " these 
two subjects, to wit. Emperor Frederic and Messer 

T 



130 EZZELINO DA EOMANO 



Ezzelino, were perhaps the two greatest generals, 
and without a doubt the two greatest^ scoundrels_gf 
their day and life-time. For one was a beast of an 
infidel, and the other was known to hold familiar 
intercourse with the devil." It would be interesting, 
perhaps, though not edifying, to have an outline of 
the conversations held by two worthies of this de- 
scription, amidst some of the most charming tracts 
of the most beautiful country in the world. We are 
informed that their time was chiefly employed in 
devising plans for the destruction of Azzo, Marquis 
of Eete, whom Ezzelino styled " the head of the ser- 
pent, against which the first strokes should be 
directed, in order to have an easy victory over the 
body." Feriendus est serpens in capite, ut corpus 
facilius devincatur. He alluded to the serpent in 
the coat of arms of the House of Este, and the 
Guelph party, of which the Marquis was the chief. 

They soon began to work upon this principle, and 
their first step was to send a friendly invitation to 
the Marquis, to wait upon the emperor in Padua. 
Although willing to take part in any proceedings 
which might tend to allay their animosities, the Mar- 
quis refused to move, unless a safe-conduct were 
given to him in the Emperor's name, and signed by 
the imperial hand. 

Having received this, he went to Padua, accom- 
panied by several of his adherents. The bad faith 
of the Ghibellines soon began to show itself. The 
Emperor had the castle of the Marquis quietly sur- 



SUKNAMED "THE CRUEL." 131 

rounded by Germ.an outposts. Soon after, under 
some specious pretext, he secured the person of Ri- 
naldo, son of the Marquis, and kept him as a hos- 
tage. The malicious Ezzelino placed numerous spies 
near his visitor during his stay in Padua, and was 
informed by them of the names and quality of the 
persons with whom he had intercourse, in order to 
punish them, as he afterwards did, by exile, impri- 
sonment, or death. The,wary Marquis was continu- 
ally on the alert, and he soon had more than mere 
suspicions to make him mistrust his adversaries ; for 
he learned that Frederic had resolved, and even 
given directions to have him taken out of the way. 
He forefended the stroke by leaving Padua secretly, 
and without notice. Once out of the lion's den, he 
rallied his followers, and collecting all the forces he 
could, he marched boldly upon Este, and other 
towns occupied by the enemy, reducing them once 
more into his power. This rapid and fortunate 
movement caused the death of every one in Padua, 
who was a friend of the Marquis, or whom Ezzelino 
chose to consider as such. 

Tlie cruelty of this chief increased as he became 
older. An unguarded word, a vague suspicion, a 
groundless accusation, was enough for him to cast 
his unhappy victims into the horrid dungeons, 
erected by his order in every town where he 
obtained command. The architect who served him 
was the first to die in one of these prisons, when its 
erection was completed. He burned the towers and 



132 EZZELINO DA ROMANO, 

palaces of the nobles wlio failed to obtain liis favor ; 
tormented and maimed in the most frightful manner 
their owners, frequently ordering their limbs to be 
cast into the fire before their eyes. 

He made various attemj^ts to establish his sway 
in several cities hostile to Frederic, among the rest, 
but without success, in Parma and Belluno. The 
lamentations of the unfortunate Paduans, lay and 
clerical, groaning under his iron yoke, became so 
loud that in 1248, Pope Innocent lY. excommuni- 
cated him, as he had done already with the profli- 
gate and ambitious Frederic. Ezzelino, in place of 
being humbled by the sentence, as the Pope expressly 
desired, became worse and w^^rse. He continued 
his assassinations and imprisonments, strengthened 
his forces, and seeing the power of Frederic decline 
with his health, he formed the project of adding to 
the proud title of Signor of Padua^ which he had 
assumed, the command over other cities, and domi- 
neering in his own name. He took and sacked the 
little city of Monselice, and forced its citadel, deemed 
impregnable, to capitulate. It is said that some of 
the machines which he employed on this occasion, 
heaved stones of twelve thousand pounds weight, 
a circumstance which may be deemed incredible. 

Frederic 11. died in 1250. After having afflicted 
the church like his grandfather Frederic Barbarossa, 
he came to a similarly unfortunate end, althougli he 
is believed to have previously repented of his mis- 
deeds. AYe have only alluded to him, where his 



SURNAMED THE "CRUEL." 133 

history comes in contact with that of Ezzelino, his 
friend and feilow-bandit. 

Monte and Araldo, two nobles of Monselice, 
accused as traitors, having been brought to Padua, 
and loudly protesting that they were not such, Ezze- 
lino, who was at dinner, came out at the noise, and 
refused to listen to any explanation or defence. 
Monte, driven almost to insanity by his hopeless con- 
dition, rushed wildly at the tyrant, threw him to the 
ground, and being unarmed himself, searched Ezze- 
lino's person for a dagger, but at the moment he too 
was unarmed. Monte having grappled him by the 
throat, was making a desperate effort to choke him. 
Eoth Monte and Araldo, however, wxre cut to 
pieces by the soldiers of Ezzelino, who narrowly 
escaped with his life, and was confined to his bed for 
several days in consequence of the wounds inflicted 
upon him by Monte's teeth and nails. Had he not 
been found unarmed, that would have been the last 
day of his life. 

The complaints of the Avu'etched Paduans, the 
remonstrances of the Marquis of Este, and the 
entreaties of the whole nation against this horrible 
man, became so loud, that Pope Alexander lY., as 
the common father, could no longer refuse his assist- 
ance towards delivering the country from so great 
an evil. Accordingly, he created Philip, Archbishop 
elect of Pavenna, Legate Apostolic in the Marca 
Trevigiana, who published a crusade against Ezzeli- 
no, as an enemy of his religion and his country. He 



134 EZZELINO DA EOMANO 



collected an army in Yenice, composed partly of 
Paduan refugees ; and notwithstanding the efforts 
of Ansedisio, nephew to Ezzelino, and Governor of 
Padua in his name, he took all the fortified places in 
the vicinity, and finally stormed a gate of the city 
itself. While the crusaders were battering the gate, 
the besieged poured down upon their machines such 
a large quantity of hot rosin, sulphur, pitch, and 
other combustibles, that the gate itself caught fire 
and was reduced to ashes, affording an easy entrance 
to the aggressors. They were soon in possession 
of the city, and threw open the gloomy dungeons of 
, Ezzelino, thus giving freedom to an incredible num- 
■ ber of victims of his cruelty, who could scarcely be 
recognised by their relatives, so haggard and spec- 
tre-like was their appearance. 

Ezzelino, who was then marauding on the territory 
of Mantua, moved in the direction of Padua, at the 
news of its being besieged. At the ford of the Min- 
cio a man stood before him, covered with dust and 
sweat. "What news?" said the tyrant. "Bad! 
Padua is lost." Ezzelino ordered the messenger to 
be hanged instantly, and proceeded onward. Meet- 
ing another messenger, he asked the same question : 
"What news?" He answered that, by his good 
leave, he would wish to speak to him in private. 
This second man was more prudent than his fore- 
runner, and departed unharmed. Ezzelino pressed 
forward without giving his weary soldiers a mo- 
ment's rest. On arriving at Yerona, a sudden sus- 



SURNAMED "THE CRUEL." 135 

picion crossed his mind regarding the faith of the 
Padnans who accompanied him. He instantly 
ordered them to be arrested, deprived of all they 
had, and inclosed in the famous amphitheatre of that 
city, where, with unexampled barbarity, the greater 
part of them were murdered on the spot. The oth- 
ei*s died of suifering and starvation, so that out of 
nearly twelve thousand, between nobles and ple- 
beians, not more than two hundred ever found their 
way back to Padua. 

The pontifical army had been reinforced by 
several commanders — among others, by the famous 
Friar John, at the head of a band of merry Bolog- 
nese, and by Alberico da Romano, who, though a 
most cruel and lawless bandit himself, was scarcely 
ever on peaceful terms with his brother Ezzelino. 
The latter was driven from before Padua, and 
retreated, burning with shame and rage, to Yerona, 
where he consoled himself by torturing to death his 
nephew, Ansedisio, for having lost Padua. The 
j Paduans passed a decree, which is still extant, order- 
j ing the hap23y liberation of their city from so cruel 
I an oppressor to be solemnized every year by a gene- 
ral procession, accompanied with hymns of gratitude 
/ to the Almighty — a festival which, if report be true, 
is continued down to the present day. It would be 
long to narrate the intrigues through which Ezzelino 
succeeded in obtaining command of the noble city 
of Brescia. The events which led to it may be all 
reduced to one cause — the accursed discord of the 



136 EZZELINO DA EOMANO, 

Guelplis and Ghibellines, which rendered an easy 
prey to a domestic tyrant, the same town which had 
defied the whole imperial army, with the proud 
Frederic at its head. Philip, Archbishop of Eaven- 
na, made every attempt in his power to prevent 
Ezzelino from entering Brescia, but he was defeated 
and taken prisoner himself. -Having been brought 
into the presence of the tyrant, he was asked by Ez- 
zelino how he expected to be treated. Philip 
replied, in a calm and steady voice, " With the 
honors usually given to a Legate of our Holy Father^ 
the Pojpe /" an answer which caused even the 
haught}^ Ezzelino to respect him during his confine- 
ment. 

Brescia was doomed to sufi'er the tyranny of so 
cruel a master only for a short time. Buoso da 
Doara and the Marquis Oberto Pelavicino, who, 
from friends and allies of the tyrant, had become his 
most bitter foes on account of his treacherous 
attempts against them, were on the banks of the 
river Oglio with the forces of Cremona, as well as 
Azzo d'Este with those of Ferrara and Mantua. Ez- 
zelino, having bribed and bought over several of 
the nobles of Milan, had attempted to carry that 
city, but was rebutted by Martino della Torre. A 
similar attempt had been likewise made against 
Monza, which also foiling, Ezzelino found himself in 
the midst of a hostile country, with deep and rapid 
rivers between him and Brescia ; and he heard that 
his old enemy, the Marquis of Estc, had fortified the 



SURNAMED " THE CRUEL." 137 

bridge of Cassano, having scattered the detachment 
left there by Ezzelino. He resolved to make a des- 
perate attempt to force this pass, and gain the oppo- 
site bank. 

z'- It is said that a devil had predicted to him that 
he wonld die at Assano. Now Ezzelino kept always 
a number of astrologers in his pay, and had great 
faith in devils and witches ; but interpreting this for 
the city of Bassano, near which he was born, he had 
wisely resolved to keep away from it for the future. 
He trembled at the mention of Cassano. His 
onslaught upon the people of the Marquis was so 
violent, that his followers had all but carried the 
bridge, when an arrow, discharged at random by a 

AGuelph cross-bow man, pierced deeply into his left 
foot. This accident spread a panic through his army, 
which he was compelled to draw back to Yimercato, 
where, having had his wound opened and the arrow 
extracted, he bravely mounted horse again, resolved 
to push forward towards the Adda, across a shallow 
part of which he conducted his men. He had already 
reached the opposite shore, but his foes had regulat- 
ed their movements so accurately that the forces of 
Cremona, under Buoso and Oberto, and those of 
Ferrara and Mantua, under the Marquis of Este, 
bore upon him simultaneously, and fairly brought 
him to a stand. Though hemmed in upon all sides, 
he did not lose his wonted ardor ; but in the very 
moment of danger, the Brescians gave rein to their 
hoi*ses, and saved themselves by flight. In vain did 

7* 



138 EZZELINO DA ROMANO 



he attempt to keep liis men together, and eifect a 
retreat in good order towards Bergamo. The allies 
attacked his disbanded troops, making a great num- 
ber of prisoners. 

Ezzelino, belabored on all sides, fought with the 

fury of a tiger, covered with blood, and in the midst 

of a circle of dead bodies ; and at length, finding 

himself nearly alone, he furiously put spurs to his 

horse, and made a desperate effort to escape. He 

:Was, however, pursued and overtaken by a large 

'number of horsemen, who made him prisoner. The 

. same instant, a soldier, whose brother had been mu- 

= tilated by order of Ezzelino, struck him on the head 

j and wounded him thrice in revenge. Others say 

• that he was thus wounded before his capture, in an 

encounter with Mazzoldo dei Lavelonghi, a Guelph 

nobleman of Brescia. 

The day on which this memorable victory, which 
gladdened the heart of all Italy, took place, was the 
feast of Sts. Cosmas and Damian, September 27th, in 
the year of grace 1259. The people crowded upon 
: the road by which he was conveyed to Soncino, all 
being desirous of seeing the man whom the stoutest 
soldier had never approached hitherto without trem- 
bling. To one of the many who, covering him with 
reproaches and insults, threatened moreover to finish 
him, he turned with eyes of fire, and a frown of his 
dark brow : " And wouldst thou have courage (he 
said) to lay thy hands upon Ezzelino ?" The growl 
of the caged lion was sufficient to strike terror 



SURNAMED "THE CRUEL." 139 

into tlie heart of tlie man, and of all tlie by- 
standers. 

He soon reached Soncino, where he was protected 

from further injury by the noble Marquis of Este, 

who provided him w^ith surgeons, and commanded 

that every attention and respect should be paid to 

him. His wounds, however, were so deep as to 

baffle the skill of his attendants. He refused to par- 

j take of any food, and without giving any sign of re- 

^ pentance, he died some days after, in the seventieth 

, year of his age, rejecting even the consolations of 

• religion. 

His brother Alberico was put to death the year 
after, together with all his sons, in force of a barba- 
rous sentence suggested by the fear, that if even a 
scion remained of so evil a race, it would one day 
grow up to be the curse of the country. 

So, to the unspeakable relief of all Italy, perished 
(^Ezzelino il Crudele, or the Cruel, who, endowed 
"with great military genius, might have been a hero, 
and chose to be the scourge of his country, and the 
detestation of posterity. His shrewdness was equal 
to his cruelty ; for at a glance he read the deepest 
secrets of the heart, and was known to scrutinize 
and study every face upon which he turned his gaze. 
; He was of athletic mould, and gifted with nerves 
i like whip-thongs and sinews of iron. His hair and 
1 eyebrows were dark and bushy, his features pale but 
I marked with extraordinary expression, and his eyes 
like those of the viper. There is a portrait of him in 



140 EZZELINO DA ROMANO 



the Pitti Gallery at Florence, worthy the study of 
c the traveller. 

He was so wantonly cruel, that sometimes, on the 
capture of a town, he would order all the inhabi- 
tants to be deprived of their legs, or arms, or noses, 
or otherwise shamefully mutilated. Having heard 
I that a quantity of blind and disabled persons, who 
went around begging through the Italian cities, 
asserted that they had been reduced to that state by 
Ezzelino, he issued a proclamation inviting those un- 
happy poor to present themselves to him, with the 
assurance that they would be nourished and provided 
for. Three thousand miserable wretches came to 
\ him, whom he enclosed in a large building, ordering 
,1 it to be set on fire, so that the whole number perish- 
fi ed in the flames. 

He had great faith in magic and judicial astrology, 
an imposition very prevalent in those days, although 
its practices were forbidden under severe penalties. 
While he was moving against the city of Feltre, it is 
said that a magpie hovering around his banner, 
finally rested upon it. Whether that he considered 
the fact a good omen, or felt a kindred sympathy for 
that bird of prey, Ezzelino was delighted with the 
animal, which Avas so tame as to allow itself to be 
caught, and ordered the friendly pie to be conveyed 
to Padua, and delicately nourished. 

But it is time to close this sketch of the life of this 
famous chieftain — the most inhuman of those nume- 
rous Italian warriors of tlie middle ages, whose 



SURNAMED " THE CRUEL." 141 

science and valor might have nriade tliem a blessing 
to their beautiful country, but who plunged it 
deeper and deeper into those feuds which finallj, by 
destroying the resources of its vitality, rendered it 
an easy prey to the grasping stranger. 



LEGEND OP DANIEL THE ANCHORET. 



( 



LEGEND OF DANIEL THE ANCHOKET. 



D 



AXIEL the anchoret knelt in prayer, and he 
grieved over the evil times upon which his lot 
had fallen. " The cliarity of God has gone from the 
earth and retm*ned to heaven. She has folded her 
wings there near the throne, and pm-poses not to 
visit earth again. There is no one to yield the tear 
of sympathy, or the mite of relief to the poor of the 
Lord. There is no charity left upon the earth," 
said Daniel the Anchoret. He rose and trimmed 
the little lamp that hung before his favorite shrine, 
and its rays lit up his cell with nnwonted splendor. 
The stream of light seemed suddenly to grow into 
shape, and the holy man became suddenly aware of 
a jewelled sandal, a flowing robe, and a snowy 
wing, revealing the presence of an angel close by 
his side. He would have prostrated himself to 
venerate the messenger of God ; but the angel for- 
bade him, and motioned him to take his staff and 
sally forth from the hermitage. " Follow me and I 
will show thee one who hath true charity for the 
poor." 



146 LEGEND OF DANIEL THE ANCHOEET. 

The Anchoret folded his mantle about him, and 
bending his head he followed the angel whither- 
soever he would lead. They went on until they 
entered the outskirts of the neighboring town, and 
there the angel stopped before an humble cottage 
and disappeared, leaving the Anchoret to contem- 
plate the scene before him, and learn wisdom from 
what he might see. Blocks of marble and slabs of 
travertine, rough-shapened by the chisel, lay scat- 
tered round about, showing that the occupant of the 
cottage followed the craft of a stone-dresser. The 
craftsman himself was seated in front of his door 
under a canopy formed by a luxuriant vine, now 
laden with bunches of purple grapes. Some ragged 
little children, and a few aged persons nearly all 
blind or crippled, were grouped around the stone- 
mason, whose name, it appeared from the conversa- 
tion overheard by Daniel, was Eulogius. He was 
instructing and encouraging his listeners to love 
God, be thankful to him for his mercies, and re- 
signed to the trials and privations which had fallen 
to their share. It became clear from the parting 
blessings of the poor, that they were to see him 
again on the morrow, and furthermore that he was 
in the habit each day of gathering them around 
him and distributing among them all his earnings 
not strictly necessary to supply his own simple 
wants. The Anchoret was charmed and edified 
beyond measure by all he had seen and heard. He 
rejoiced exceedingly and gave thanks to God. Here, 



LEGEND OF DANIEL THE ANCHOKET. 147 

then, was 'one true friend of the poor. But oh ! he 
began to think, what a pity it is that one who is so 
great of heart should be so poor himself, and able 
to do so little good. His charity is indeed un- 
bounded ; but his means, alas ! are not equal to his 
good will. And straightway the holy man betook 
himself to prayer, and he begged of God that the 
generous artisan might become rich and great ; for 

. if he was so liberal in a condition bordering upon 
indigence, he would be much the more liberal with 
unlimited resources subject to his command. The 
angel appeared again to the Anchoret. " Thy prayer, 
O Daniel, is not a wise one ; it were not well for 
Eulogius to become rich." But Daniel could not 
help thinking of the greater number of poor who 

\ would be relieved, and of the splendid example the 

i virtuous and frugal Eulogius would give to other 
rich men, were he indeed to become rich himself. 
He continued to pray that his wish might be granted, 
and in the fervor of his zeal he pledged himself to 
God as security for the good use his fellow-servant 
would make of wealth and power were they to be- 
come his portion. 

^^^ So, then, God granted the praj^er of the Anchoret, 
and he ordained that Eulogius, while hewing stone 
from the side of a hill, displaced a mass of loose 
fragments and earth, which took his feet from under 
him and threw him upon the ground. Eulogius was 
terrified ; but when the noise was over, and the dust 
had cleared away, he rose and saw lying at his feet 



148 LEGEND OF DANIEL THE ANCHORET. 

a Imge himi^ of pure shining gold. H5 was ricli, 
and that neighborhood saw him no more, for taking 
with him his wonderful treasure, he went to the 
court of Justin the Elder, and became a great general 
of the empire. 

Several years were passed and gone, and Daniel 
the Anchoret still continued to trim the little lamp 
that burned before the shrine in the mountain cave, 
which he had chosen for his cell. His head was 
now bent, his step was slower and less firm as he 
went down the mountain side to visit and console 
the neighboring poor, whom he loved so much. 
The old man's thoughts were fixed upon the future. 
His long hair and venerable beard were tufted with 
white,— '^ crests," he would say, " upon the wave of 
time about to break upon the shore of eternity." It 
chanced one night about this season that Daniel had 
knelt long in prayer, when it seemed to him to be- 
hold the throne of God suddenly erected as for a 
^ solemn judgment about to take place, and the cul- 
/ prit summoned before the awful presence of the 
Judge was (but oh ! how changed from his former 
self!), the stone-dresser Eulogius. Daniel, likewise, 
to his infinite sorrow and dismay was called to 
appear by the side of him for whose good conduct 
he had pledged himself as security, in his inconsi- 
derate zeal to promote the welfare of the poor. O 
what a dark catalogue of sins was brought forward 
against the unfortunate culprit. He had used the 
gold, miraculously put within his reach, to purchase 



LEGEND OF DANIEL THE ANCHOEET. 149 

the servants of the aged Emperor Justin, and gain 
access to his favor. He had been made, by means 
of bribery and corruption, the chief of a great 
army ; and he had outstripped all the soldiery in 
excesses of every kind, in the same proportion as 
he rose above them in power. He had robbed the 
churches and pillaged the cloisters, and finally had 
joined one Pompey, and one Hypatius, in a conspi- 
racy to take the life of the Emperor Justinian, who 
had succeeded Justin on the throne. 

Daniel was not able to hear or see more, but 
weeping bitterly he fell prostrate on his face in the 
presence of God, and begged him to bring Eulogius 
back to his former condition, and to release him 
from a pledge that had proved so injurious for both 
parties concerned. 

The angel bore to the foot of the throne the prayer 
of the aged servant of God, whose heart w^as filled 
with grief and bitter remorse, and the request it 
contained was again mercifully granted. The con- 
spiracy in which Eulogius was implicated came to 
be discovered, his accomplices were brought to jus- 
tice, and he narrowly escaped with his life. He did 
penance for his sins, returned to his former obscu- 
rity, worked again at his craft as a stone-dresser, 
and in time resumed the practice of alms-giving, 
which he had changed in an evil hour for deeds of 
rapine and plunder. Thus the good angel guardian 
of Daniel the Anchoret succeeded at length in con- 



150 LEGEND OF DANIEL THE ANCHORET. 

vincing him that avarice but too often hardens the 
heart of wealth, thus disturbing the order of God's 
providence on earth, and that the poor are not un- 
frequentlj the best friends of the poor. 



THE KUINED CASTLE, 



THE RUINED CASTLE. 

" Mors etiam saxis nominibusque venit I" — Kittilitjs. 



A 



CROWN of broken towers and roofless walls, 

Sits on the brow of yon funereal hill, 
The spacious courts and tesselated halls 

"Which bhthe and busy groups were wont to fill 
Ih olden time, He tenantless and still. 

There from its lance the flaunting standard hung, 
The mellow bugle smoothed the forest rill. 

Or louder notes from brazen trumpet rung, 
And suddenly to arms a thousand wai'riors sprung. 



Down from the neighboring heights in martial pride 

Rank after rank upon yon meadow poured, 
And quickly drawn in bright array defied 

The warriors of the Castle and their Lord. 
Along the ghttering line they draw the sword. 

Resolved yon iron portals to unlock. 
With savage joy the Fiend of Battle roared 

While legions rushed and with terrific shock 
Were crushed and broken there as waves on ocean rock. 

8 



154 THE RUINED CASTLE. 

Oh ! who may tell how oft with swelling beart- 

The chieftain paced that towering battlement, 
Defying time or warfare's rudest art 

To shake the pillars of his tenement. 
He fondly dreamed, though ages should be spent, 

'Twould still be sounded by the trump of fame 
That ever first in joust and tournament, 

And first the prize in sterner war to claim, 
Stood forth the warriors good whose watchword was his name. 

I 

1 

And where is now the marvel of his age, ] 

Where is the train of flatterers ever by — I 
The iron guardsman and the silken page ? 

Entombed beneath a sunless soil they lie, " 

The leader with his meanest vassal nigh, i 

Without a stone to grace his narrow bed, j 

Without a token of his memory, i 

Save thrown up by the wondering rustic's spade, ! 
Some helmet, mouldering bone, or old rust-eaten blade. 

I 

Go ask, what ranks his lordly standard led, j 

When was it borne in triumph o'er the meads, j 

Who were the brave that 'neath his falchion bled, | 

What minstrel's lute rehearsed his mighty deeds — i 

And boast when finding who thy riddle reads i — i 

Go ask who bid this princely mansion grow, . 

Whence brightest glory to its name proceeds, I 

Who was the traitor-friend or vengeful foe j 
That shook its massy walls and laid its towers low. 

) 
I 

And yet, proud mansion, 'twas no vulgar mind i 

Sketched the bold outlines of thy noble plan • \ 

To build thee up vast treasures were resigned, I 

And oft the stranger lingered hero to scan 

Thy riches, while long hours unheeded ran. 



THE RUINED CASTLE. 155 

"What proofs of art and labor met his view, 
Sublimest essays of ingenious man I 

"What mimic forms arose, in mould and hue 
So truth-like, speech was all they wanted to be true 1 

Methinks I see upon the spacious floor 

Or noble wall the lettered marble shine 
That told the date when King or Prince of yore 

Had with his presence graced those halls of thine. 
Or bore the Hero's well-remembered sign 

Whose glaive had laid some robber-chieftain low, 
Or which mayhap was chiselled to consign 

To each succeeding age as time should flow, 
The name of Elnight or Bard whose ashes slept below. 

And while I listen, through the briUiant hall 

Methinks right merry strains are swelling yet, 
Upon mine ear the mingled voices fall 

Of high-bom dames and knightly galliards met 
In yearly mirth for some gay festival — 

Meanwhile the Captive from his living tomb 
Now hstens and now turns him to recall 

His own delights ere life had lost its bloom. 
Now weeps he for his spouse — his babe — ^his distant home. 



\ The curious eye could from thy towers survey 
// A princely villa 'round those walls outlaid, 
Still further on the hamlet by the way 

The distant fields and hills their charms displayed. 
Now nature's simple views the gaze delayed, 

With wood and lawn and grazing herds of deer ; 
Now comelier scenes by tasteful art portrayed, 

Showed fount and bower and flowery parterre, 
Nor were such charms alone "War's grim abode to share. 



156 THE EUINED CASTLE. 

When over open moor or wooded park 

The rival huntsmen struggled for renown 
At eventide amidst the neigh, the bark, 

And voice that made the day's adventures known, 
Proudly the spoils of sylvan war were shown I 

Or when a band came home from sterner war 
The groaning bridge was slowly lowered down, 

Right merrily the victors clattered o'er. 
Oh, long-forgotten sports, and honors now no more I 

/"What now remains of aU the gorgeous pile 

' "Whose frowning towers o'erawed the plains around : 
Of camp and court alternate, that erewhile 

Filled it with life and splendor, what is found ? 
Ah I lacking e'en a title's empty sound, 

Though once held sacred to undying fame, 
Here from their ancient Lord's sepulchral ground 
The traveller's glance these hoary ruins claim 
To tell, all he may know, where stood the giant frame. 



jTfie stately tower has fallen to the ground, 

The sohd ramparts yield to slow decay, 
And nettles cluster where his morning round 

The steel-clad wardour trode in ancient day. 
In every breeze rank pensile vine-shoots play 

Across the roofless wall. The viper now 
Crawls in the vault where erst the prisoner lay ; 

And through the turf once seen perhaps to glow 
With not ignoble gore, the rustic speeds his plough. 



And yet when hither from some distant hill j 

You turn your eye at twilight's pensive hour j 

You start to see how flitting hazes fill ' 
The gap of ages — how the broken tower, 



THE RUINED CASTLE. 157 

The sunken arch, and falling portals lour 
In sullen grandeur, through the deepening gloom, 

Until deceived by Fancy's magic power. 

While musing on the warrior's ancient home 

You half neorlect to mark his desecrated tomb. 



/Alas 1 the night- winds moan through hall and room 

"Where power was throned, and beauty loved to dwell ; 
And hghtnings glimmer 'mid the tempest's gloom 

Upon the naked hearth where rose and fell 
The hght of glowing embers cheering well 

The seated group. Else to no sound ye hark 
Save the bat flitting o'er the moonlit dell, 

Or echoes waked by guardian mastifif's bark, 
Or melancholy owl complaining through the dark, 

/ Oh thou whoe'er this lonely way mayest tread, 

Rest, rest thine eye upon that silent heap. 
Each stone could tell a legend of the dead I 

Here may the hermit sou 1 its vigils keep. 
No rumbling wains along the highway creep, 

No din of cities wakes the encircling wold ; 
And sober contemplation here, where sleep 

In their cold tomb the mighty ones of old, 
May hear in words Hke these, the worth of glory told : 

l' From those who tenant this forgotten earth, 

Yet burned erewhile with Chivalry's proud flame. 
Learn that the blazon of ancestral worth, 

The crested helm and shield of feudal fame, 
Are not enough to consecrate a name, 

And save its glory from the common doom. 
Learn that even though through War's terrific game. 

Upon your brow the Conqueror's wreath should bloom, 
Its light will not dispel the shadows of the tomb. 



158 THE RUINED CASTLE. 

" Then let a nobler pride exalt thy mind, 

And earn the blessings earth and heaven bestow, I 

Or him whose labors benefit mankind, 
( Know that the good alone are great — and know 
Virtue alone is deathless here below." 

These useful truths 'neath Fancy's magic sway 
In soft and pensive numbers seem to flow, 

Blent with the whisperings of yon wavy spray 
With the low murmuring breeze that sighs along the way. 



THE BANDIT OF VELLETRI. 



THE BANDIT (JF VELLETRI. 



THE iirst time I heard tlie name of " Barbone," 
tlie Bandit of Yelletri, was under circumstances 
calculated to leave a portrait of tins strange man 
vividly daguerreotyped upon one's fancy. I was 
enjoying a pedestrian excui'sion along the Appian 
way with a number of fellow-collegians, and after 
having walked for some hours, we finally halted 
near a fountain by the roadside, not far distant from 
the well known village of LAriccia. When we took 
up our line of march again, a priest wdio was the 
chief of the party, said, "This fountain is celebrated 
among other things, for what happened here to the 
outlaw ' Barbone.' " At our request our friend pro- 
ceeded to give us an account of the occurrence to 
which he had alluded, accompanied with other 
details concerning the chief actor, with whom he had 
been personally acquainted. The moral of the story 
is a good one, for it goes to show how a whole life- 
time may be rendered miserable by a first step 
falsely or imprudently taken, and also liow great 

8* 



162 THE BANDIT OF VELLETRI. 

are the evils which flow from keeping bad com- 
pany. 

Francesco Annibali was a blacksmith in the town 
of Yelletri, at the time of the occupation of Rome 
by the troops of the French Republic under General 
Berthier. He was a young man of a quiet and 
peaceful disposition, and his neighbors had no spe- 
cial remark to pass upon him, imless that he was a 
person of very few words, and excessively fond of 
spending his spare time shooting through the neigh- 
boring forest called " La Fajuola." The regulations 
introduced by the French were very stringent on 
the subject of keeping and bearing fire-arms, and 
still more so in reference to the sale and purchase 
of gunpowder. The Yelletrani are proverbially of a 
fiery and even quarrelsome disposition, and under 
the French authorities a license was required, and 
not easily granted, for having in a private house so 
much as a simple fowling-piece, and even when this 
was obtained, so many signatures and visats were 
necessary that it was next to impossible to procure 
enough of powder to load it. 

The penalties in case of infraction of the law were 
dictated by the spirit which prevails in a state of 
siege, and were accordingly of extreme severity. It 
is needless to say how nmch this state of things 
galled Francesco and his brother Nimrods of Yelle- 
tri, to whom a day in the woods was the most genial 
of all recreations. 

One day Francesco had been out gunning with a 



THE BANDIT OF VELLETKI. 163 

neighbor in the Fajnolaj when after a short time 
their scanty stock of ammunition gave out, and they 
were compelled to bend their steps homeward in a 
sorrowful mood, while the sun was still high in 
the heavens, and they had bagged only a beggarly 
account of game. IS'ow while they were walking 
along in silence side by side, who should come in 
sight upon the road leading from Eome to Yelletri, 
but Padron Meo (Master Bartholomew), a bandy- 
legged old fellow, who filled the office of Postino. 
The business of Meo was to go from Yelletri twice 
a week to Albano, where he did little commissions 
for the men, and made purchases in a small way for 
the women, bringing down also once a week any 
letters there might be for people in Yelletri. The 
companion of Francesco, after they had recognised 
Meo, remarked that the old fellow was no doubt 
provided w^ith abundance of the very thing they 
needed so much — powder. The thought occurred 
to Francesco that perhaps the Postino might be in- 
duced to sell them some, and awaiting his approach, 
they tried to prevail upon him to do so. But it was no 
use. He would not run the risk of breaking the 
law, even to oblige two old neighbors, nor would he 
be coaxed to give it, or lend it, or drop it and let 
them find it by accident, or evade in any other 
ingenious manner the decree that had gone forth 
ao-ainst selling powder without license to the vender, 
and permit to the purchaser. The young men argued 
that the law was a new and an unjust one, but Meo 



164: THE BANDIT OF VELLETRI. 

declined discussing the subject on logical grounds. 
But the next argument made him open his eyes a 
little wider than usual — ^for it did not rest on a phi- 
losophical distinction. They told him that they were 
two, and he only one ! They forgot to recite a Pater 
noster, dwelling strongly on the petition "lead us 
not into temptation," and the consequence was that, 
what he would not consent to give, they took with- 
out his consent. Each helped himself to one pound 
of prime gunpowder, promising Padron Meo to 
break every bone in his body, if he dared to breathe 
a word against them when he entered the town. 

The two comrades now returned to their sport, 
and soon separated with the augury, '-'- Bocca al 
Ixipo .^" a cant phrase still prevalent in those parts, 
and equivalent to the wish, "Good luck and plenty 
of game to you !" 

Francesco spent the whole day in the woods, and 
returned in capital spirits to Yelletri long after sun- 
down. As he struck into the by-path that led 
towards the suburb where his dw^elling was situated, 
he heard his name called in a strange loud whisper, 
" Checco !" (Frank.) 

" Who goes there ?" said Francesco. 

" Silence, it is I, thy friend Nino. Follow me." 

Nino led the way hastily into a thick-set clump of 
underbrush, and the astonished Francesco followed 
him in silence. At length Nino stopped, his face 
was pale as ashes, and his knees knocked with fear. 

" Nino, what in God's name is the matter ?" 



THE BAJsDIT OF VELLETRI. 165 

" Francesco, you must fly ; the gendarmes are 
after you ; your life is not worth that," and he 
snapj^ed the thumb and middle finger of his right 
hand. 

He then went on to explain that his fellow-sports- 
man had returned to the town several hours before, 
and had been immediately arrested and tried by 
court-martial in the presence of the French military 
commander, found guilty, and sentenced to be shot 
at six o'clock the following morning. The gen- 
darmes w^ere now secreted in Francesco's house 
awaiting his return, to treat him with an equal 
amount of agreeable civilities. 

" But why, why all this terrible business ?" gasped 
Francesco. " For the small malter," said ]N"ino, " of 
having stoj)ped old Meo to bid him good morning, 
or, as they style it, for having assaulted and robbed 
the mail on the public highway." 

Poor Francesco now saw the whole business at a 
glance, the crime of w^hich he had been guilty, and 
its dreadful consequences. Thanking and embrac- 
ing I^ino, he turned back and disappeared in the 
forest now darkened by the shadows of coming 
night. 

He travelled many hours, and when he finally 
reached a place which he knew to be free from all 
danger of surprise, or even approach, he still w^alked 
up and down in great agitation. Francesco was, as 
we have said, a good young man and a kind-hearted 
fellow, well liked by his neighbors. And yet here 



166 THE BANDIT OF VELLETRI. 

he found himself, in the middle of the night, with 
grim rocks staring upon him from above, and dark 
wildwood hemming him in all around, a vagabond, 
an outlaw, a wild man of the woods, upon whose 
head a price would be set, and who feared, like 
Cain, that he might be slain by the first of his fel- 
low-men who might chance to cross his path. Some- 
times he tried to think that the affair with Padron 
Meo was only a joke, or at most an idle freak like 
playing truant from school, or stealing fruits in an 
orchard. But it would not do. Nino had told him 
he was held to be a highway robber, and that he 
had stopped and broken the mail ; and though Meo's 
greasy saddle-bags were rather a ridiculous object 
when served up by memory to fancy, there was too 
much truth and painful reality in the allegation to 
allow him to laugh at Meo or his saddle-bags either. 
He at length knelt down and prayed, wept, and 
prayed to God and the blessed Yirgin not to let him 
degenerate into an assassin as well as an outlaw, 
and stretched himself at length upon the unshel- 
tered earth, little knowing for how many years it 
was to be the only couch where he could safely lay 
his head. 

For some days he wandered about in this way, 
alternately praying, hoping, fearing, despairing, his 
only nourishment being wild fruits and chestnuts 
(with which this neighborhood abounds), when on 
the fourth day he at length saw a human face, and 
though a sufficiently ugly one, he actually hurried 



% 



THE BANDIT OF VELLETEI. 167 

towards the wild-looking vagabond who wore it with 
the intention of embracing him, falling upon his 
neck, and weeping from very fulness and bitterness 
of heart. 

Tliis flow of sentimentality, however, was sud- 
denly checked by a little piece of pantomime on 
the part of his new friend, w^io on seeing Francesco 
bear down so rapidly upon him, lifted to his shoul- 
der a long carbine as brown and wicked-looking as 
himself, and taking deliberate aim quietly informed 
him that if he came one step nearer he would blow 
his brains out. Francesco's first feeling, of course, 
w^as fear. Then considering why he had hurried 
towards this interesting specimen of the human 
family, he was half inclined to laugh ; then remem- 
bering that his own long and favorite gun, which he 
carried from habit and not for use (for he had no 
powder), justified the new comer's apprehensions, he 
threw it, in a fit of despair, upon the grass, folded 

, his arms, and told him to fire and be hanged to him. 

^ The wild man immediately grounded his piece, and 
finally drew near. " Who are you ?" " Francesco 

I Annibali of Yelletri. Who are you ?" " I am 

I the Devil." Explanations ensued. My Lord was 
not the real legitimate Devil, but only a rascally 
highwayman very much like him in principle and 
behavior. 

He soon learned Francesco's history, conducted 
him to his hiding-place in the woods, provided him 
with wine, food, dagger, ammunition, and any 



16S THE BANDIT OF VELLETRI. 

amount of tlie worst kind of advice, which, in his 
desperate situation, the misguided young man was 
induced to listen to at first unwillingly, and at length 
with eagerness, so that he became a tool ready for 
any unhallowed work in the hands of his cunning 
and hardened companion. 

The robber had a piece of professional business in 
hand for that very evening. He reasoned with 
Annibali, threatened and coaxed him until he finally 
enlisted him in it, though not without difficult}^, 
promising that he should get half the booty for his 
share, just as he had shared in the two pounds of 
powder taken from the postino Padron Meo. A 
young man of the village of ISTemi had gone down 
to marry a girl belonging to Genzano, distant only 
a few miles. He and his bride were to be accom- 
panied on the road back to J^emi, after the wedding- 
feast, by a few friends in the cool of the evening, 
and between the jewels of the women and the money 
likely to be found upon the men, tliere was pretty 
promising booty in prospect. After much talk and 
many qualms of conscience, our friend Francesco 
consented to assist his new acquaintance in the ho- 
norable enterj^rise of relieving the bridal party of 
tlieir valuables, with the understanding, however, 
that no blood should be shed. 

The two friends posted themselves in the bushes 
in a solitary spot at a proper hour, and the party 
came in sight carrying torches formed of twine and 
})itch, the women riding on donke3^s, and tlie men 



»■ THE BAXDIT OF VELLETRI. 169 

walking by their side, all dressed in their holiday 
garments, all merry, musical, and unsuspecting. At 
a turn of the road the muzzles of two long carbines 
suddenly interrupted their progress, and the terrible 
voice of the practised bandit rang out, " Bocca a 
terra," " Lie j^rostrate on the earth or we fire." The 
songs, the laughter and conversation of the gay party, 
were immediately hushed, and struck with unsj)eak- 
able terror they fell upon their faces as they were 
bid by the terrible voice, not knowing whether one 
or -^ftj carbines were aimed at their heads, nor 
whether one or fifty assassins lurked behind the 
weapons of death. The elder outlaw sprang lightly 
forward, and brandishing a naked dagger he ap- 
proached each of the prostrate figures and divested 
them in the speediest and most scientific manner, of 
all their finger-rings, ear-rings, jewelry, money, 
and watches. They were a party of peasants well- 
to-do, and each had all or some of these articles 
about his person. Francesco remained in advance 
of the group ; his instructions were to watch and 
shoot down any of the men who should attempt to 
offer resistance. He stood still, remorseful and 
ashamed, but said nothing, and allowed his comrade 
to do his work. This one was an old hand at liis 
nefarious business, and did things coolly and tho- 
roughly, lie had sj^read a napkin on the ground, 
and as he plundered each one in turn, he dropped 
upon it all the trinkets and money so as to gather 
them up in a bundle and decamp when the job was 



170 THE BANDIT OF VELLETRI. ♦ 

completed. He had now gotten pretty well through, 
and was engaged in despoiling the last of the wo- 
men, who happened to be the bride. The poor girl 
had risen upon her knees, and in this position her 
beauty, rare even among the fine-looking people of 
her native town, and enhanced by her picturesque 
bridal costume, attracted the insolent regard of the 
bandit, who, Francesco failed not to observe, was 
possessed by other demons besides the passion of 
cupidity. 

" Let go my arm," screamed the young woman, in 
deadly terror. 

Her husband sprang immediately to her side. 

" In the name of God and the Madonna Santis- 
sima," he exclaimed, " be satisfied with our jewels, 
and do not terrify my poor spouse — 'figlio d' un 
porco' — son of a hog !" Here he ground his teeth ; 
he could not help it, poor lad. 

" I don't know — I don't know," replied the gen- 
tleman who had said that he was the Devil. " I 
think this fair girl would be a fitter spouse for a 
bold ranger of the forest, than for a miserable vine- 
dresser like you. Come, courage, pretty lass, mount 
your donkey again, for I have made up my mind 
that you shall follow me." 

As the young husband, with unspeakable anguish 
and rage, now endeavored to rescue his trembling 
bride, the whole party rose, some to their knees, 
some upright. 

The question, however, was apparently soon to be 



• THE BANDIT OF VELLETRI. 171 

settled. The assassin eyed the unarmed husband 
with a malignant scowl, and drew the long gleam- 
ing dagger from his belt, when Francesco stood sud- 
denly near. 

" Release the girl, villain," he exclaimed, " and 
march ! or I'll put a bullet through your heart." 

The assassin fell back in terror, for Francesco's 
flashing eye spoke things that cannot be uttered. 
Still he rallied a little, and even tried to laugh ; but 
the attempt was rather a failure. Francesco did not 
threaten him when he saw he would not " march," 
but quietly levelling his carbine, he prayed briefly. 
" Mother of God," said he, " I have never com- 
mitted a murder — forgive me this, my first one !" 
His finger was upon the trigger, but the robber ran 
for his life, regretting that his own carbine was on 
the ground at the opposite end of the group, and 
so Francesco did not fire. He cheered the peasants, 
who thanked him with tears in their eyes, gave them 
back all their property, and saw them safe to the 
entrance of their village. He would accept nothing 
from them but one dollar, to save himself, as he said, 
from starvation. 

^"^ When he left the good villagers and wandered 
back alone into the world of forest-leaves and dark- 

j ness that had now become his home, he felt the 
sense of peace and happiness that follows upon a 
temptation overcome, and a good action performed. 
He reflected that bad company had brought him 
twice into trouble, and coming, after a while, in 



172 THE BANDIT OF VELLETEI. 

front of a wayside chapel of the Blessed Yirgin, he 
knelt at the little wicket and promised that he would 
1 never, as long as he lived, associate with a vicious 
I companion, and that he would never commit what 
I his conscience told him was a theft, even if starva- 
' tion were the only alternative. He bent him down 
and kissed the ground before the Madonna's altar, 
and blessing himself, wandered forth again, a lone 
and friendless man. The promises he had made, he 
faithfully kept. When hard pushed, he would ac- 
cost a traveller with the salutation, " Yi saluta Bar- 
bone," and ask for charity, and on account both of 
his gentle manner and formidable appearance, he 
was seldom refused. What money he got he spent 
in procuring ammunition, and the game his uner- 
ring aim brought down, he would sell at night in 
places where he knew no one would betray him. 
His hair and beard grew to enormous thickness and 
length, and he came gradually to be known only 
under the aforementioned name of " Barbone." He 
made application again and again for pardon, both 
under the French Government and after the return 
of the Pope to Rome, but of course the chance of a 
mail-robber and outlaw, with a price set on his 
head, was small, indeed, during a period of unusual 
disturbance, and where the police authorities were 
brought in as judges or Counsellors of the Govern- 
ment. 

So tlien Biirbone lived on, shooting in the woods, 
avoiding inhabited districts, unless at night, and 



THE BANDIT OF VELLETRI. 1Y3 

when obliged to leave his cover, preferring the bare 
and solitary campagna to every other place of resort. 
During the spring months, when the flowers and 
herbs begin to sprout, and the autumn months, when 
the grain has been gathered in, the hay mown, and 
the grapes and other fruits are ripe, thousands of small 
birds make their appearance on the slopes of the 
hills w^hich border the campagna, and flit over this 
desolate oasis in the midst of a region of plenty. 
Many of the wealthy citizens of Rome come out at 
this time at early dawn to go a-birding at the dis- 
tance of a few miles from the city. Some of them 
set reeds and bird-lime under cover of the hedges, 
and catch the little fools of the feathered tribe by 
that old-fashioned device ; others choose the margin 
of a stream, and depend upon decoys and clasp- 
nets, while many others prefer the caccia alia civetta^ 
i. e. the mode of bird-catching where a wise-looking 
old owl serves as the centre of attraction. ITis owl- 
ship is placed upon a high perch, and partly induced 
by his innate politeness, partly by a string which 
the sportsman ties to his leg and pulls at from time 
to time, he goes through an incredible amount of 
bows and scrapes, and flaps and flutters his wings 
to prevent himself from losing his balance and fall- 
ing from his stand. Meanwhile his big eyes are 
wide open, and he stares about him, and ducks his 
head uj) and down as if he saw everything and un- 
derstood twice as much as he saw. Now the little 
birds flying around, desert clover-seed and insects, to 



174 THE BANDIT OF VELLETKI. 

take a peep at this queer spectacle, and have a little 
laugh at the dear, good old owl's quaint and con- 
ceited antics. The sportsman meanwhile watches 
his chance, shoots little bird on the wing, and down 
he comes before he knows what has hurt him. The 
sportsman's dog glides out, seizes the game, runs 
back with it, and sits down again in hreathing ex- 
pectation for another bird, with his tongue hanging 
down half a yard, and his eyes dilated in admira- 
tion of his own sagacity. 

The tall, gaunt figure of our hero would often rise 
before these gentle sportsmen, his long beard sweep- 
ing his breast, and his favorite carbine slung over 
his shoulder, the muzzle just peeping above his ear. 
He would repeat with a smile his old cant phrase, 
" Bocca al lupo !" " good luck attend you," and 
introduce himself by another of the few sayings he 
was heard to utter, " Yi saluta Barbone ;" " Barbone 
salutes you." He would then ask the sportsman, 
who, if a keen one, and an habitue of the campagna, 
knew him immediately, for a portion of the good 
things in the basket which never fails to be brought 
out on such expeditions, and of course he was never 
refused. After discussing the cold fowl and tasting of 
the bottle of wine, he would bid his entertainer good 
bye, with his laconic formula, " Barbone thanks 
you," and would disappear, taking cheerfully a little 
money or powder, if it was offered, but never de- 
manding it, and never doing violence to any one. 

He became very popular among the country 



THE BANDIT OF VELLETKI. 175 

people, for they came to know that he never harmed 
a human being, that he never broke his word, that 
he had frequently saved travellers from outlaws, and 
jail-breakers thrown upon the rural districts by the 
revolutionary condition of the times ; and that while 
he would willingly accept assistance from others, he 
would also part his last crust with any needy wretch 
he met with in his wandering life. It is said that he 
killed more than one Garabiniero or constable, in 
self-defence, with what truth I know not. It is cer- 
tain, however, that whenever any of their cloth 
showed a desire to get near Barbone, the outlaw was 
apprised of it by the country people, who loved him 
and did all they could to assist and befriend him. 
I remember one time sitting in the old Cesarini 
Palace at Civita Lavinia conversing with the venera- 
ble lady who rented the mansion, Signora Carolina 
Cassio, a kind and generous lady now no more, whom 
many a ci-devant Amci'ican student will recollect 
with fond and filial aifection, for she took pride in 
the title which I had the honor of conferring upon 
her of " La Madre degli Americani," a title the dear 
j old soul used to paraphrase by saying, " I am the 
' Roman Mother of the American boys, whose Ame- 
rican mothers are not in Rome, but, oh ! Gesu e Maria ! 
on the other side of an ocean three thousand miles 
broad !" I asked her if the romantic stories which 
were told of Barbone were true, and she replied that 
she recollected his coming into her house for shelter 
when she was first married, and that her husband 



176 THE BANDIT OF VELLETRI. 

entertained the Carabineers wlio were seeking for 
him, with bread and cheese and plenty of wine on 
the ground floor, while she helped Barbone to stow 
away his long beard and his longer leg's nnder the 
bedstead of the identical little room of which I was 
at that time the occnpant. Signora Carolina con- 
firmed also the truth of the story about the Miller of 
r a certain Mill in the neighborhood Avhich my fellow- 
I students and I often visited in our pedestrian excur- 
\ sions. The story ran briefly as follows. — The Ban- 
j dit entered the mill one night, driven by his two 
\ standing enemies, hunger, and the Carabinieri, and 
greeted the master as usual, " Yi saluta Barbone." 
The miller, a jolly and hospitable fellow,- was on this 
particular evening in a fit of the dumps, and politely 
answered, " Yi saluta il Diavolo." 

Barbone tried to comfort him, but to no purpose. 
He learned, however, the cause of his sulkiness. His 
landlord, a Roman lawyer, had been with liim that 
day, and had taken from him five hundred dollars, 
in virtue of a mortgage long expired, and which the 
poor man had understood, it apj^ears, at the time of 
his taking the mill, he would never be required to 
pay. As it was, it took from him the last cent he 
could beg or borrow, and left him no prospect for 
the following day but stoppage of business, and 
misery for himself and his family. Barbone brought 
his principles of moral theology to bear upon the 
case, and gave it as his opinion, that the conduct of 
the lawyer was mean, miserly, and flagrantly un- 



THE BANDIT OF VELLETHI. 177 

just. He took some bread and cheese, and liis host 
loaned him a horse for a few honrs, to enable him to 
leave the neighborhood, as he alleged, under press- 
ing necessity. Three hours afterwards, a gentle- 
man, who was quietly dozing in a private carriage 
that rumbled lazily along the Appian way, was 
roused from his nap by the vehicle coming to a 
stand-stilL The door was gently opened, and^ the 
sleepy lawyer saw a strange figure framed in the 
side of his carriage, which lie thought at first was a 
favorite painting of a Bandit, by Salvator Eosa, 
much admired on account of the peculiar play of 
moonlight by whicli alone it was illumined. 

"It is Salvator Rosa !" said he with a snore. 

" You lie ! I don't even know the man. It is 
Barbone.'' 

"But, your Eminence," insisted the lawyer, ad- 
dressing an imaginary Cardinal — 

" How dare you insult the sacred College by call- 
ing a vagabond like me 'your Eminence?'" said 
Barbone, giving him a shake that nearly shook his 
liead off. 

The traveller, now thoroughly awakened, sa^v his 
mistake, for the shaggy figure addressed him : " Yi 
saluta Barbone." The reader must imagine the 
dialogue that ensued. Protestations of poverty 
on the one side, and an adroit playing with a car- 
bine loaded and cocked on the other. The dialogue 
was a short one. Barbone bid the lawyer good 
night, and remounting his borrowed steed, he rode 

9 



178 THE BANDIT OF VELLETKI. 

/ lip to the mill three hours afterwards, and handed 
the miller five hundred dollars, as a loan, to be re- 

; paid in case he should happen to call for it, which 
of course he never did. 

Barbone's coolness and presence of mind were truly 
admirable, and made him go about and do things 
which seemed of appalling imprudence, and yet he 
was never caught, although his whole life was a 
series of hair-breadth escapes, and although the Ca- 
rabineers who tracked him in the woods, talked and 
laughed within a few feet of him, and to use his own 
expression, sometimes trod upon the barrel of his 
carbine as it stuck out in the grass from the bush 
behind which he lay hidden. He is reported by the 
people of Kemi to have gone frequently to hear 
Mass at the Convent Church of the Fassionists on 
Monte Cavi, when he knew that there were no Ca- 
rabinieri or dragoons in the neighborhood, and to 
have left his gun leaning against the wall outside of 
the Church, thinking it would be irreverent to take 
it inside the sacred building, and they still boast 
that none of the peasants ever attempted to steal it, 
or to inform upon its owner whom they all knew so 
well. 

There proved to be, however, one individual who 
son gilt to bring the unfortunate though inoffensive 
bandit into the hands of the authorities, tempted, it 
is said, by the reward which was offered for his 
apprehension. This man was the ministro or stew- 
ard of the Prince Lancellotti (if I remember the 



THE BANDIT OF VELLETIII. 179 

name aright) the lord of a beautiful palace I once 
visited in the town of Yelletri. He had laid several 
traps for the bandit, by which, in consequence of 
his confidence in the country people, he had more 
than once narrowly escaped. The steward had also 
boasted that he would yet succeed in securing his 
prey, and the boast cost him humiliation and ]3unish- 
ment he little dreamed of, as we shall see. 

Durino; the season of the vintao^e the Prince had 
issued invitations for a grand party at his palace, 
and after a variety of pleasant entertainments a 
large number of noble ladies and gentlemen sat 
down to a sumptuous banquet in the great hall. 
The evening was sultry, and a large window reach- 
ing down to the ground was left open at the end of 
the hall which opened upon the garden. When en- 
joyment was at its highest one of the lady guests 
who sat on the right hand of the Prince, looking out 
upon the orange trees and rose bushes that waved 
before the window, saw a strange face peering in 
upon the assembly. Her terror attracted the atten- 
tion of those near at hand, but before any explana- 
tions could be asked or given, a tall figure stepped 
suddenly into the hall, his long beard sweeping his 
breast, and the everlasting carbine grasped upriglit 
in his left hand. The unbidden guest seized the 
moment of terror and silence which his apparition 
had occasioned to calm the fears of all. " Signori and 
Signore" (ladies and gentlemen), said he, "Vi saluta 
Barbone ! you will believe me, when I say that I 



180 THE BANDIT OF VELLETRI. 

come to do no harm to any one in this noble compa- 
ny. Signor Principe ! I humbly ask your pardon 
for disturbing your festivities, but I know that you 
will forgive me, when you hear why I have come. 
To prevent any unpleasant mistakes, however, I 
wish to inform those gentlemen near the door (a 
number of waiters, who looked rather uneasy and 
showed evident signs of a desire to hurry out of the 
room) that I will send a ball through the head of the 
first man who lays his hand upon the handle of that 
door unless by His Excellency's order. My gun 
never misses fire, and I never missed my aim in my 
life." 

A moment of silence ensued, and no one stirred 
in all that vast hall. The Prince knew by report the 
character of the man who stood before him, and 
therefore he addressed him in a sufficiently steady 
voice. " Barbone," said he, "I have never injured 
you, and I know of no cause why you should dis- 
turb me and mine in this unwarranted manner. 
What do you require of me, and why do you come 
to terrify my friends after a fashion so — so — danger- 
ous to — to — the safety of your life ?" 

" Eccellenza," said Barbone, " my life is a matter 
about which I care but little ; but there is a deed of 
justice to be done in your presence here this evening. 
Your steward is, I know, in this palace. Send some 
person from the room who will summon him before 
you, and let there be no attempt at treachery, or 
my death will not be the only one that will follow." 



THE BANDIT OF VELLETRI. 181 

" Giovanni," said the Prince to the head waiter, 
" tell the steward to come in, I wish to see him ; speak 
to no one else, and return with him immediately." 
In a few moments the waiter returned, accompanied 
by the steward. 

Barbone put him through a brief examina- 
tion. 
\ " Steward ! did I ever do you an injury ?" 

\ "]sro!" 

? "Did I ever injure, or attempt to injure your 
friends or your property ?" 

" 'No !" 

" Did I, to your knowledge, ever do an injury to 
any living human being ?" 

" No !" 

" You hear him, your Excellency, you hear him 
say what is the simple truth — that I never harmed 
anybody. Now ask him why he has sought my 
blood, by day and by night. Is it not enough that 
I have been driven like a wild beast away from the 
society of my fellow beings, that I am compelled to 
burrow with snakes and foxes in the wild Apennines, 
that I am pelted by the storms of winter, scorched 
by the summer sun, and have a price set on my 
head by the laws of man," — his voice here trembled 
with strong emotion. 

" Poveretto !" exclaimed some of the ladies. 

"Is all this not enough, that yon white-livered 
dog must join in the cruel chase through town, vil- 
lage, and wild-wood, and seek to take the life of a 



182 THE BANDIT OF YELLETRI. 

friendless, liomeless man, who never injured him or 
liis?" 

The case seemed to be a clear one, and no one 
spoke for the steward. " You are all silent," said 
the Bandit, looking round. " IS^ow you shall see 
that Barbone is not the bloodthirsty assassin he is 
called by his enemies, but can be merciful even in 
revenge." 

He now unbuttoned his coat, and drew forth two 
raw cowhides, and placing them in the hands of the 
two stoutest looking servants in the room, he com- 
manded them to stretch the unfortunate steward on 
the floor, and thrash him with all their might and 
main. '' If either of you dares to hit him one blow 
that is not a heavy one, I will that instant knock 
him flat with the butt of this gun." 

The steward was a haughty, overbearing fellow, 
and this circumstance, added to the bandit's threat, 
caused the work to be done cleanly and without any 
botching. Barbone looked grimly and silently on, 
and when it became evident that further chastise- 
ment must endanger the victim's life, he expressed 
himself satisfied, and bade the servants desist. His 
moderation secured him the sympathy of the wit- 
nesses of this strange scene ; the Prince even asked 
him to help himself from the table. Barbone 
thanked him, but informing him with a grim smile 
that his health required that he should always take 
his meals in the open air, he placed some of the 
eatables nearest at hand in a napkin to take away, 



THE BAXDIT OF VELLETRI. 18 



Q 



and after drinking a glass of wine to the liealtli of 
the company, he vanished through tlie window as 
softly and as suddenly as he had entered. 

Years rolled on. and the soHtary handit still con- 
tinued to live the same erratic life. His applica- 
tions for a pardon had so often proved fruitless, that 
he gave up all hope of ever being admitted to the 
society of his fellow-beings again, and he pined and 
grew sick at heart. - At length, finding himself 
driven nearly to despair, he formed a resolution the 
boldness of which is characteristic of the man, and 
carried it into effect with his usual cool self-pos- 
session. 

. There is a road running from the country resi- 
/dence of the Popes, at Castel Gandolfo, along the 
• bank of the beautiful Lake of Albano, where the 
; venerable Pius YII. was in the habit of walking in 
the cool of the evening, accompanied only by the 
two attendant Prelates, and the two members of the 
noble Guard who were on duty for the day in tlie 
antechamber. One fine evening in August the 
Pope was surprised by seeing start from among the 
bushes a tall wild-looking figure, which seemed to 
have risen like an apparition out of the earth at his 
feet. It was Barbone, with his long beard, and his 
favorite carbine, come to plead his cause in his own 
way at head-quarters. The noble guards drew their 
ornamental side-arms, and stepped before the per- 
son of the Pontiff. The Bandit looked at those fes- 
tive weapons, and leaning upon his gun at a respect- 



184: THE BANDIT OF YELLETEI. 

ful distance, without showing any intention of draw- 
ing nearer, "Boys," said he contemptuously, "put 
your little pen-knives back where they belong ; they 
are not needed, and would be of no use if they were." 
The Pope looked at the man with curiosity, and mo- 

\ tioned the young scions of nobility to stand aside. 

' The stranger then spoke briefly, as was his wont, 
and to the point. " Most Holy Father," said he, " I 
am an unfortunate man, who has no home, no friend, 
no fellow upon this earth, no one to care whether 
he is dead or alive, but Him who is up yonder," 
pointing to the sky. " The only crime I ever commit- 
ted in my life, was the stealing of one pound of gun- 
powder, many years ago, Avhen the French had pos- 
session of Yelletri, For this crime I have done pe- 
nance, God only knows how long and how bitter, 
ever since. I have made application for pardon to 
your Government, which I never offended, through 
many good j)riests who have known me since my 
childhood, and who are willing to testify to my good 
character, as are all the people of the neighboring 
villages to whom Earbone is well known, and none 
of whom has he ever injured. I have been driven 
to live like a wild beast in the forest, and those that 
forced me so to live, brand me as an assassin, and 
would take my life to punish me for my manner of 
life, which is their work, and not mine. I am grow- 
ing old, and I cannot live thus any longer. I would 
sooner live in a prison among malefactors, than 
where I can see no human face to cheer me, and 



THE BANDIT OF VELLETRI. 185 

drive away die demon that tempts me to self-destruc- 
tion. If the law must have my life, so be it ; but I 
am determined that my condemnation shall come 
from no other lips but yours. Oh ! may you who 
have suffered so much, take pity on me ! I await 
my sentence, and stand here unprotected to receive 
it." As he spoke, he threw his carbine upon the 
ground, and unbuckling his belt, in which there was 
a long knife, he threw that aside also ; then taking 
off his hat, he came and knelt at the feet of the 
Holy Father. The gentle heart of Pius was touched 
by the emotion which Barbone endeavored in vain 
to smother, by the simplicity and evident honesty of 
his words, and the allusion he had made to the meek 
and saintly Pontiff's own history. He spoke a few 
kind words to him, and bade him follow, as he 
turned back towards Castel Gandolfo. 

On re-entering the palace, Barbone was left wait- 
ing for some time in the antechamber, where he was 
an object of no little curiosity. The Cardinal Secre- 
tary of State was closeted with the Pope, and one or 
two officers were sent for, entered, came out again, 
and departed. 

At length a military personage addressed Bar- 
bone, and informed him that it was the Pope's wish 
'he should accompany some prisoners who were to be 
escorted that night to Civita Yecchia, that his case 
would be investigated, and a final decision made 
known to him at that place. He went accordingly 
to Civita Yecchia, and after a few days was sum- 



186 THE BANDIT OF VELLETKI. 

moned before the Governor, who communicated to 
him the instructions he had received. The Carabi- 
nieri, the Bandit's old enemies, had sent in a pretty 
hard report against him, which the Government 
could not altogether disregard. By sovereign order, 
however, his sentence of death, which had never 
been repealed, was commuted to imprisonment for 
life, the prison to be the town of Civita Yecchia, 
where, that he might have an opportunity of making 
an honest livelihood, he was to be employed as a 
porter in the Government service, with liberal 
wages, and the promise of sj)eedy promotion upon 
good behavior. 

Many years afterwards, the Priest from whom I 
learned the above circumstances, saw Francesco 
Annibali in Civita Yecchia. He had risen to be 
the head of the Government porters, and ruled that 
noisy and quarrelsome set of people in a manner 
that gave universal satisfaction. He gave my friend 
a history of his eventful life. He was now a happy 
and a useful man, hale and hearty still, but his head 
had grown venerable with age and exposure, and his 
long beard was as white as snow. 



THE PRISONER OF THE CASTLE. 



THE PRISONER OF THE CASTLE. 



T 



HE sun's far to westward — the wild din and rattle 

Of warriors and steeds has at length died away ; 
Unprofaned is the hour by the tumult of battle, 

That crimsoned yon sward at the dawn of the day. 
All is still o'er the landscape — ^but not in the soul 

Of the captive, whose eyes from his bastioned recess, 
Toward j'^on distance-dimmed castle and hamlet still roll, 

"While thus he pours forth his lone tale of distress : 

*' The time has gone by when my courage or madness 

Drove me recklessly on to this hateful abode. 
And my proud soul oppressed with a burden of sadness, 

Treads again the dull level of life's weary road. 
Green hills of my childhood, that smile from afar. 

Through the rough bars that chequer the prisoner's breast. 
Is the sole boon bequeathed me by Fame's cherished star. 

Such a fate and such feelings — in sight of such rest? 

'f Ah 1 there my poor mother her needle is plying, 
I Cheating time with some strain she once carolled for me, 
1 1 But neglecting lier work, she oft turns her, and sighing. 
Gazes out on the pathway that pencils the lea. 
There the children, if e'er they should see on the way 

Some travel-stained soldier approaching the cot. 
To run and apprise her, will cease from their play. 
And wonder why with him their brother comes not. 



190 THE PRISONER OF THE CASTLE. \ 

r j 

S^* How my father will cover his woe-speaking features, ; 

', "When perchance some old comrade less hapless than I, i 

Comes to tell how he witnessed these treacherous creatures . 

Drag me off to be cast in a dungeon — or die ! 

How my mother will seek for a plea to retreat, i 

Nor to tears within sight of the little ones yield ; '\ 

And all the sad day and the hour will regret 1 

"When I left the sweet cot for the turbulent field. ] 

'VAh, fool that I was, to make light of that treasure ; 

Of humble contentment that blessed me before, I 

|And wander in quest of a fanciful pleasure, j 

Nor knew what I lost, till I owned it no more." 

The sun has gone down, and while pacing his room, | 

The youth moves his lips in communion with God ; ] 

Then forgetting his dungeon, its bars and its gloom, j 

He dreams of the hills where in childhood he trod. I 

[These lines were written in Italy, on observing two castles upon mountain- j 
ranges, placed within sight of each other, where the events here spoken of may 
be readily imagined to have occurred during the unceasing Baronial feuds of the 

middle ages.] ] 

1 

i 



THE VISION OF ODOACEE. 



THE VISIOIST OF ODOACER. 



5 rnWAS morning on the Alps, and a noisy 
X greeting met the rising sun as he poured his 
beams athwart the neighboring hill-tops upon a plain 
where stood the barbarian encampment. Scythians 
and Heruli, Alans and Goths — all the adventurers 
who had followed Odoacer from the north, rejoiced 
on this auspicious day, for it was to be the last of 
dull and unrequited toil. They had reached at 
length the frontiers of Italy, long and harassing 
marches were to be at an end, spoils and repose 
were to be the portion of all whether high or low. 
The king, however, did not unite with his followers 
in their rude manifestations of joy. Growing more 
cautious as he came nearer the land he had so often 
visited in dreams of ambition, he moved silently 
along, heeding but slightly the greetings of the obse- 
quious throng which parted to let him pass. He 
bent his steps where the mountain ridge rose highest, 
anxious to gain at length a glimpse of the fair regions 
that lay beyond. 



194r THE yiSIOX OF ODOACER. 

The warriors looked Avitli admiration after their 
chief as he clave his way up the devious path, grasp- 
ing, to aid his progress, at the branches that pro- 
jected around him. He disappeared at length among 
the green wood, trodden but seldom by the foot of 
man, and still they gazed upon the waving bushes, 
and the yellow sand and stones displaced by his 
tread as they rolled down the hill-side when he had 
passed. 

Who can describe the wonder of the prince when, 
having gained the summit of the mountain, he leaned 
upon the fragment of a rock, and gazed upon the 
beautiful scene spread far and wide below ! He 
looked to the left, and from the base of the blue 
Alps, as far as the eye could reach, a smiling plain 
extended ; yelloAv fields appeared where the breeze 
drove before it soft waves of golden wheat ready for 
the sickle ; in the valleys verdant cane fringed the 
margin of some classic stream, vineyards ran along 
the gentle slope of sunny southern hills, and looked 
from the distance like endless lines pencilled forth 
by a fairy's art. He turned to the right, and upon 
the nearest hill stood a Castle, from whose battle- 
ments a feudal banner waved proudly in the breeze; 
a village rose further on, then a forest, and then a 
noble cit}^, whose wide-spread walls and countless 
glittering turrets told what thousands dwelt withiii. 
On either hand broad rivers rolled their waters to 
the sea, that sparkled and flashed on the rim of the 
horizon. Tlie barbarian gazed in silent admiration 



THE VISION OF ODOACEPv. 195 

at the clear blue sky, the smiling ii^ds, the vine- 
clad hills, and the leafy bowers of Italy. The face 
of Mother J^atiire was for the first time unveiled in 
all its beauty to his gaze. His passions slumbered 
in his breast, and a calm delight stole gently to his 
heart. Such moments of peace and innocent enjoy- 
ment are not easily forgotten. They are the sweetest 
man enjoys upon earth, the most like heaven except 
the prayerful hour, when angels tread lightly to look 
_ upon the upturned brow of youthful innocence, and 
I speak in whispers lest they should break the spell 
I that entrances a spirit so much like themselves. But 
the promptings of restless ambition soon ruffled the 
calm surface of Odoacer's soul, and roused him to 
sterner thoughts. A smile of dreadful meaning lit 
up his features. " Ha ! not long," he exclaimed, 
" gay land of luxury, shall thy soft lordlings revel 
in bower and hall. Thou shalt have a monarch of 
a sterner race. The time has come at length when 
an answer peals from the north to all thy tyranny, 
and vengeance shakes even the gates of imperial 
Rome." 
,^— ~ He had scarcely uttered tliese words when the 
bushes were stirred behind him, and an unknown 
step was heard to approach the spot. He turned 
with sudden awe, and beheld a venerable figure 
close by his side. It was an aged man clothed in 
dark attire. His loins were girded with a simple 
cord, that met in a knot at his side, and hung to- 
wards the ground. His long beard veiled his breast, 



19G THE VISIOX OF ODOACER. 

and his snowy locks waved in the mountain breeze. 
A cross ended the staff upon which he leaned, as 
bending slightly forward with looks that searched 
his inmost soul, he gravely said, " JS'ot these, proud 
monarch of the Heruli, should be the feelings of a 
chosen minister of God's avenging wrath. The hea- 
vier the rod wherewith he scourges a nation for its 
sins, the sooner does he break and cast it aside." 
"Who art thou," exclaimed the chief, unused to 
sharp reproof, "that lendest an intruder's ear to 
words that fall unguarded from the lips of a stranger? 

Or art thou rather, perchance," he quickly 

added, " one of more than mortal power, who read- 
est in the soul her hidden thoughts, that I may bend 
my knee and do homage to a messenger sent from 
above ?" " Forbear the undue act, my son ; I am a 
mortal, a sinner, even as thou, although I do come 
to make known to thee the will of heaven. I had 
long witnessed the corruptions of luxurious Rome 
until sickened at last I fled the ungodly scene, 
and sought, amidst the solitude of these wild Alps, 
for the blessed tranquillity denied my younger days, 
which is only gained by serving and loving God. 
Beneath a neighboring rock, a little grotto opens to 
the wood, and there is my humble home. Thou 
couldst not enter it," he added, eyeing the tall form 
of the warrior, with a gentle smile, " without bend- 
ing low the plumes of thy helmet. When I first 
came hither, at the command of Ilim who feeds the 
little birds, a gushing rill fell from its flinty side to 



THE VISION OF ODOACER. 197 

quench iny thirst, and from the dale hard hy I cull 
at morning the herb and juicy roots that form my 
frugal repast. 'Twas at the peep of dawn I knelt 
and said my prayers, when my spirit saw thee scan- 
ning the mountain side, and heaven hath sent me to 
meet thee here. 

.. - " Prince, the wrath of God hangs like a storm- 
cloud over this fair land, and yet its children know 
it not — they sleep. Loak with attention, and thou 
shalt see foreshadowed the designs of God's long- 
suiFering justice, and the work appointed to be done 
by thee. Thy sword is chosen to punish this people 
for their baseness ; but the mercy thou wilt see 
accorded them will show how far thy power may 
reach. Beware attempting to do more. Look and 
be wise." The hermit spoke thus aloud. His eyes 
flashed inspiration, his right hand pointed to the 
plains below, the fingers of his left rested upon the 
shoulder of the warrior, who had seated himself at 
his bidding. Eagerly the chief gazed over the coun- 
try; but as far as the eye could reach the sunny 
plain appeared the same, save where the reflection 
of a cloud dotted it here and there with an island of 
shadow. Suddenly the shrill blast of a trumpet 
pealed forth from the neighboring rocks. A banner 
broke from out the thick foliage, and a cohort of 
armed men, shouting loudly, poured like a swollen 
torrent down the mountain pass upon the plain. 
Tlie chief looked amazed, for he recognised them 
immediately as his own followers. On, on, careered 



198 THE VISION OF ODOACER. 

tlie visioiiaiy band. Horror preceded them, and 
despair and desolation followed in their track. 
"Where are now the wealth and beauty of the 
doomed land? The blood of the ploughman be- 
dews the unfinished furrow, the peasant is devoured 
by the flames that reduce his cottage home to ashes. 
Where they enter, an Eden smiles to greet them, 
and when their fury has swept by nothing is seen 
but a dark and smouldering waste. 

Oh ! sunny regions of the south ! how often have 
nature's bountiful gifts proved to you a source of 
bitterest woe, thus rendering you first among all the 
kingdoms of the earth in misery, as first in loveli- 
ness ! 

A murky cloud is now seen afar ofi'; it rolls along, 
it sparkles and flashes, and at length breaks dis- 
tinctly upon the eye, in the shape of a long array of 
men and horse. Their banners wave proudly above 
them, and they press bravely forward to check the 
march of the barbarian invader. All is still as death 
for a moment ; then a deafening yell rends the sky. 
The ground between the armies becomes a narrow 
strip, and at length is swallowed up altogether. 
Banner meets banner — waves of steel-clad horse 
push on and clash together, and man engages man 
in a conflict where no quarter is asked or given. A 
cloud of dust hides the contending forces, rent now 
and then by a cry louder than usual, or by a rider- 
less steed that bursts madly from the fight and falls 
gasping to the ground, or flies in blind terror away 



THE VISION OF ODOACER. 199 

o'er tlie open fields. But wliy are louder and thicker 

blovv^s now dealt? The patriot ranks have slowly 

yielded up the ground, and now they are in full 

flight towards the quarter from which they came. 

The love of life has risen in every breast, and hastens 

> the feet to which terror adds wings. The SAvift bar- 

I barian hangs upon their rear, and his battle-cry 

I drowns the death-groan of many a victim. On speed 

j the fugitives, until with -flagging steps they finally 

I reach the bank of a swollen river. Here an ancient 

f' bridge, their forlorn hope, appears. A cry rises, 
" Halt and rally ! Italia ! Italia ! One blow for her 
sweet sake !" They stand and form ; but the eflbrt 
of disheartened men is brief, and vain as brief. A 
mighty force overwhelms them in this their last 
eff'ort, and the fierce conquerors now hold the bridge 
itself. Thus was the first battle lost and won. 

As Odoacer witnessed it, his dark eye flashed fire. 
He swayed his body to and fro, seconding the atti- 
tudes of those who struck for his cause. When the 
flight and pursuit began, he leaned forward with 
breathless excitement ; but when the shouts of his 
troops proclaimed his arms victorious, he smote his 
thigh with clenched fist, and cried aloud with joy. 
" Contain thyself," said the Hermit. " Far more 
yet remains to be seen — far greater tokens of God's 
anger, and far greater grief of this unhappy land." 
>^He looked again. There rose a noble cit}^, seen as 
f distinctly as if it were near at hand. Its walls and 
towers were lined with mail-clad warriors ; its gates 



200 THE VISION OF ODOAGER. 

were bolted and barricaded from within. The bar- 
barians advanced slowly and cautiously, some drag- 
ging huge catapults along the plain, some digging a 
mine to approach the guarded wall, while others 
from behind wooden parapets, or the cover of their 
broad shields, opened a deadly shower of arrows and 
javelins upon the beleaguered town. The fight 
spread rapidly along the battlements ; the ponderous 
battering-ram was heard, as its crashing blow told 
upon the groaning gate, at the sides of which the 
dangerous attempt was made to scale the walls with 
ladders. The besieged, even women and children, 
poured stones and tiles and burning pitch upon the 
devoted heads of their assailants. Some loosened 
their hold upon the ladders, and rolled back into the 
ditch, but more pressed forward over the bodies of 
the slain. At length was heard an awful crash, and 
a booming sound, as of thunder. The heavy gate 
was down, and swarms of l^orthmen rushed over its 
fragments into tlie town. 

Wo, wo to the beaten ! Screams of anguish and 
despair appal the ear on every side, for no corner is 
free from nameless deeds of cruelty and horror. In 
vain do the victims cry for help — for pity. Every 
house is given up to pillage, and becomes the scene 
of a carnival of blood, with all its fiendish accompa- 
niments ; first the loud and straining energies of 
Fear, Havoc, and Iliiin ; then the awful silence and 
stillness of Despair and of Death ! The conquerors 
themselves now rush forth in terror, for towering 



THE VISION OF ODOACEK. 201 

flames break out and shoot np from every quarter, 

consuming whatever had not been destroyed by the 

sword. The greedy flames spread rapidly from 

house to house — the ill-fated town becomes a sea of 

fire. Tlien was seen a spectacle more terrible still 

than any yet exhibited. The poor wretches that 

sought to escape their doom, that lifted their 

scorched arms, and screamed frantically for help, 

i were thrust back into the burning mass at the jave- 

I lin's point by barbarian soldiers ranged all around 

■ to render escape impossible ! — IsTo banner waves in 

defence of Italy, no weapon gleams to dispute their 

progress, and the barbarians forming into ranks, 

march from the scene of this horrible victory. 

Odoacer gazed keenly on the next picture that 
rose before him. Upon the extreme verge of that 
lovely country another city spread its ample pre- 
cincts, compared to which all others he had hitherto 
looked upon, were but as hamlets. ISToble bridges 
spanned the waters of her river with solid masonry. 
Graceful aqueducts and tall obelisks, turret and 
dome, triumphal arch and marble fountain tapered 
and clustered gracefully around the central pile of 
the city formed of theatres, baths and temples of the 
Gods, separated from each other by forums and 
squares, and seemingly endless thoroughfares which 
stretched forth and radiated in every direction, like 
arteries from the great heart of the Empire. Inside 
the walls every pillar had its name, every stone was 
celebrated in history, and from the summit of her 

10 



202 THE VISION OF ODOACEE. 

highest hill to the arena of her colossal amphitheatre 
there was not an inch of ground which crime had 
not darkened with his frown, and virtue had not 
bedewed with tears and blood. The barbarian Chief 
gazed long in wonder npon this scene of grandeur, 
and even he could not breathe without a mysterious 
feeling of awe the mighty name of Borne ! 

Silence reigned over the Seven Hills, nor from the 
fortified palace of the noble, filled by a crowd of 
retainers and men at arms, was a sound or whisper 
heard more than from the Forum peopled by the Dead 
of Ages. Under the shadow of the great Lateran 
Church rose an ample gate, whose massive leaves 
hung open ; but before it stood an Angel, who bore in 
his right-hand a flaming sword, to guard the thres- 
hold leading to the tomb of St. Peter. 

A shade of pensiveness appeared upon his beauti- 
ful face, and ever and anon he bent his eyes upon 
the unconscious city, and looked as if eternal bliss 
alone could prevent a tear from dimming his bright 
eyes for Rome's dear sake. Nor was the cause long 
hidden. Two Cherubim clad in shining armor, with 
flaming crests upon their helmets, were borne 
through the air upon a dusky cloud, and remained 
stationary over the city. Odoacer learned that these 
were the ministers of God's ofiended Justice, only 
seen in some liapless region of this earth, when 
the cup of crime is full to the brim, and the hour 
of mercy and repentance has gone by. They bore 
between them an ample urn of gold from which they 



THE VISION OF ODOACER. 203 

poured out upon sleeping Home a tide of blood, and 
darkest venom, but not unto the dregs. The Guar- 
dian Angel covered his features not to see the deed 
of terrible justice done. Their task performed, the 
heavenly warriors winged their flight upward, and 
were soon lost far away in the deep blue sky. At 
their fatal apparition the moon turned to fiery red ; 
throughout the holy city, the bells unmoved by mor- 
tal hand tolled forth a melancholy sound, as if to 
knell her impending doom, and through the streets 
unearthly death-cries froze the listener's ear : 
" Woe ! woe to the City of the Seven Hills !" 

]S"ow the instruments of Divine Justice draw near. 
The powers of Heaven and of Hell fight on their 
side, and mark this dreadful hour for all their own. 
Their trumpet-notes are ringing at the gates, and no 
brave defiance meets their sullen challenge. Along 
they sweep, and through the ancient ways resounds 
the yell of barbarian hordes. The work of vengeance 
is begun ; on, on they press, and desolation follows 
on their track. The fierce destroyer looked in won- 
der, mingled with hatred on the thousand palaces of 
Imperial Rome, one of which alone might shed re- 
nown on a whole city. Magnificent halls of varie- 
gated marble, porches, fountains, baths, courts and 
gardens unite to make the house of one lordly citizen a 
little town, and a thousand towns as it were, conspire 
to form but one in tlie broad precinct of the world's 
queenly capital.* But now ! nor beautiful design, 

* Est urbs una domus, mille urbes continet una urbs. 



204 THE VISION OF ODOACER. 

nor outward splendor, nor intrinsic worth, can save 
all lier gorgeous trophies from the uprooting and 
scattering storm. 'No private abode nor public 
monument can furnish a retreat to shield the trem- 
bling citizens against the ruthless invader ; not God's 
own altar protects the consecrated vessels from the 
grasp of profane hands. 

Through the streets, men are now wandering 
houseless and starving, whose illustrious names once 
made whole kingdoms tremble. Patrician matrons 
that moved along at morning, followed by such a 
suite as Oriental Queens might have looked upon 
with envy, driven rudely forth from their luxurious 
homes, now kneel and beseech protection of their 
slaves. Woe ! woe, to the City of the Seven Hills ! 
Time has been when she saw the greedy flames con- 
sume her homes, and her children depart into 
gloomy exile, and yet she rose youthful and radiant 
from her ashes to more glorious life — she was still the 
mother, and the home of the conquerors of the 
world. But now her spirit is broken, and her pride 
is beaten down, and trampled in the dust. Her 
haughtiest nobles are bought and sold like beasts of 
burden by a horde of savage serfs, and her last 
Emperor sits on a throne which he is destined never 
to fill again. 

There was a vast hall in the Capitol, well-known 
to crownless kings wlio came thither to grace the 
triumphs of their Conquerors, and to victorious Ge- 
nerals who hung their trophies on its historic walls. 



THE VISION OF ODOACER. 205 

Tliere the Eoman Senators were gathered to hold 
their last Assembly. Odoacer marked their down- 
cast and sorrowful looks with savage exultation. 
Beneath a canopy of velvet and gold, was beheld 
seated in state, the youthful Emperor — Romulus 
Augustulus. Ever and anon he turned an anxious 
look upon the Conscript Fathers who sat around him, 
but saw nothing save the settled mien of deep des- 
pair. The heaving breast, the trembling hands, 
the sudden start whenever a shout resounded from 
the streets, betrayed the sinking of his heart, the 
fear to die though nobly. The cries from outside 
resound louder and louder, the dreaded foe draws 
nearer and nearer, and now their deafening clamor 
is heard within the hall. They are here, they line 
the walls, but no effort is made to check them, or to 
enrage them still more. 

Oh! could the spirits of the heroic dead have 
lifted from their ancient tombs the heads laid low 
while guarding their native lands from the foul 
tyranny of Home, and seen the triumph of their 
children ! Had they witnessed her Conscript Fathers 
standing in chains within the very halls of all their 
olden pride, would they have laughed the fallen op- 
pressor to scorn in his sore distress and bitter shame, 
or mute with astonishment scarce believed the sight 
to be more than a fitful dream ? 

There arose now a fearful clamor. "Down with 
their Emperor ! Let his blood atone for the death of 
those his hellish legions have slaughtered in our 



/ 



206 THE VISION OF ODOACER. 

homes. Justice wills the deed, Religion blesses it !" 
Still none of all the armed hundreds there durst 
touch him ; his hour was not come, his fate was not 
sealed in heaven. 

/ - Odoacer marked the scene with kindling anger ; 
he rose and stamped his foot with rage. " Heavens ! 
is there not of all those vile slaves that bathed the 
dwelling-floor with the warm blood of youthful inno- 
cence, that slew the Priest at the altar, and used his 
skull as a cup to mock his rites — is there not one to 
free the outraged world from yon last reptile of a 
brood of vipers? Some soothsayer has bewitched 
the accursed fools, or else they would fight for the 
privilege of striking, and gaining everlasting fame 
by the blow ! It would not be so could they but 
hear my voice, or this good steel Avere not so far 
away." He ground his teeth, and half unsheathed 
his weapon as he spoke, but the Hermit checked his 
angry ravings, and holy zeal lit up his face, as he 
said to the Chief. "Shame on him who would 
break the bruised reed, who would still bathe his 
hands in blood, though all, aye, more than all has 
been granted him, that the wildest ambition could 
dream of. 

" Son of Edicon ! blush for thy baseness ; nor rouse 
by wanton cruelty the slumbering thunderbolts of 
heaven. Where now are the Conquerors who wreak- 
ed on hapless Home the vengeance of the Lord ! He 
used the scourge, and cast it from him when the day 
of wrath had gone by. See proud Alaric stricken 



THE VISION OF ODOACER. 207 

by liim fall suddenly to the plain. See Ricimer tlie 
Lord of Emperors writhe in the iron grasp of Death, 
with none beside his couch to cool his burning brow, 
or soothe him in the hour of his direst need ! " The 
bow of Attila is broken ;"* to what avail did bar- 
bai'ous minstrels chant their songs over his remains, 
and rehearse the hundred victories of the dreaded 
scourge of God ? Funereal hymns did not reach his 
clay-cold ear, nor could the noise and glare of pomp- 
ous rites gladden the spirit summoned before the 
judgment-seat of the Most High. Learn thou be- 
; times, King Odoacer, not to follow these men through 
crooked paths to an inglorious end. Know that if 
thou shut out gentle pity from thy heart the Lord thy 
God hath sworn by his own name, that at the hour 
of thy death thou shalt not find that mercy denied 
by thee to another." Thus spoke the inspired man. 
His words abashed even the proud Barbarian's soul ; 
he dared not open his lips, or lift his eyes to meet the 
lightnings of that heaven-illumined brow. Tlie 
shadow of his own death had been called up by the 
words of the holy Seer, and as it fell upon his soul, 
it cooled the fever of anger, and stilled the utterings 
of revenge. It was therefore with more willingness 
to feel for another's woe, that he raised his eyes 
again and looked in the direction pointed out by the 
uplifted forefinger of his mysterious companion. 
Along the banks of the yellow Tiber moved a 

* " Arcns Attiln^ contrihis osL" 



208 THE VISION OF ODOACER. 

band of ITortliern Warriors, in whose midst, despoil- 
ed of every mark of his former dignity, followed by 
only a few attendants in the day of his sorrow, walk- 
ed the young Angustulns. The rose had fled from 
his cheek, and his countenance wore the expression of 
heartfelt misery. " There," said the hermit, " is the 
object of your revenge." The Chief could not help 
relenting at the sight. The hermit then began, in a 
voice all tenderness, to warm the rising feelings of 
compassion in his heart. " Behold how sweet and 
endearing to a gentle breast is the love of home ! 
Condemn not, O Prince, the mild virtues of this 
delicate youth. Inured to hardships from thy earliest 
childhood, thou findest a bed on every grassy bank, 
and a home wherever the blue vault of heaven OA^er- 
canopies thy head. But he feels soft regrets for one 
beloved spot, around which are clustered all his fond 
recollections of happy childhood. Oh, how bright 
are the scenes which rise before him — now past and 
gone for ever. Imperial ease and splendor are now 
changed to the poverty and shame of an ignomi- 
nious exile, in punishment of the crimes of those 
who preceded him, not of his own. See how he 
turns from his melancholy path, a long, last look to 
Home ! It is not alone for his own loss he bends his 
comely head and drops a tear upon that strange 
ground ; his grief is for the fall of a mighty empire, 
and in the Boman now the monarch mourns !" 
Even while he spoke, they saw him turn again his 
ij eyes towards the capitol, which glittered with the 



THE VISION OF ODOACER. 209 

helmets of barbarian soldiers, ranged along its bat- 
tlements. He paused for a few moments and waved 
his hand to bid a last, an eternal farewell, then kept 
his onward path, until a green thicket hid him from 
their sight. Then soft compassion found a way at 
length to Odoacer's heart. His eyes still rested on 
the spot where he had last beheld the exiled mo- 
narch, and he generously vowed his hand would 
never be rudely lifted up to press the brimming cup 
of bitterness commended to his lips. 
^.." Learn, O King of the Heruli," the hermit now 
^ said, " from the fate of yon unhappy boy, that foul 
// wrong and high-handed oppression seek in vain to 
escape from the avenging justice of heaven. The 
rod falls slowly, but heavily and surely upon the 
offender, and the sins of the father are visited upon 
his offspring. Thou hast seen the downfall of that 
majestic power against which the whole world in 
arms has been for ages leagued together in vain. 
The crown of Imperial Rome is crushed ; her sceptre 
is broken in twain ; her throne lies in the dust, to rise 
no more for ever ! Men will laugh and deem him 
mad who first goes forth to announce her final down- 
fall. Still a greater fall is near at hand ; even now 
before my vision its closing scenes arise. ]Rot Rome 
alone has ceased her haughty rule over all the earth, 
but those vain gods whose hundred temples rose to 
grace her capital, shall soon be hurled from their 
altars, and from the sunny shores of the Tyrrhene 
Sea to the wintry waves of the Danube, not one shall 

10* 



210 THE VISION OF ODOACER. 

be found to bow his head in worship before the 
shrine once feared so much by all mankind. The 
power that broke his sceptre in the hands of the last 
Emperor of Rome shall wrest the bolts, too long 
usurped, from the grasp of her lying Jove. Eternal 
night will draw a curtain over the mysteries of Eleu- 
sina, and the wrath of Pagan Mars will be nothing 
but a schoolboy's jest. 

"But will the mighty life of this great empire 
perish with its last sovereign, and the dreaded name 
of the city of the Seven Hills be told with that of a 
fallen Nineveh, whose dust is now the sport of the 
winds of the desert, and of once famous Persepolis, 
the Persian's pride, now the solitary den of the 
roaming lion ?" 

' While he spoke thus, the night breeze murmured 
softly through the shrubs and wild-flowers around — 
the firmament knew not a cloud to spot its vivid 
blue — and the stars came forth in myriads and poured 
their silvery light upon the slumbering Alps. Far 
away to eastward the moon's fair crescent rose to the 
horizon from the bosom of the deep. The hermit's 
right arm was extended towards the walls of Rome. 
The chief gazed in silence upon the stately mass. 
Over its squares and palaces was thrown a thin sil- 
very mist, from which at intervals arose a dome, a 
shapely column, or a tapering obelisk, that pointed 
in solitary grandeur towards the sky. But all beside 
lay curtained beneath that silent haze. Some spell, 
all undefined yet powerfully felt, hung on the air, 



THE VISION OF ODOACER. 211 

diffused itself abroad, and in the meshes of its un- 
seen net enwrapt the soul that paused to contem- 
plate what lay beneath that shade. Tlie hermit, 
like one whom inspiration fills with holy ecstasy, 
caught a prophet's fire from the sight. " ]^o," he 
loudly exclaimed, " Queen of the world, thy glory 
shall not be a breath, a sound, a dream upon the 
earth ! The wonders of thy future days loom np 
and overawe me with their majestic presence. 
After this aged head shall have been laid low in 
the tomb, and gathered to my fathers, this weary 
spirit shall have ceased to wail for thee, filled with 
the vigor of eternal youth, thou shalt reign a Queen, 
the noblest Queen of all the earth. What though 
the effete old Pagan Empire fall, dragged by its 
own weight down into the marsh of festering vice 
that encompasses its feet. The tribes that now press 
on against thee from the stony hills and the misty 
caverns of the north, shall furnish thee with fresh 
materials out of which to mould a greater and 
more lasting empire still. I see the form of Chris- 
tendom come forth, where nothing but the scattered 
wrecks and crumbling ruins of the Pagan world 
now cumber the ground. I see the glorious edifice, 
thy work — all thine — rise towering from its rocky 
base, and spread its ample wings from shore to shore. 
I see the nations gather from afar ; from where the 
sun begins his daily race to where his evening 
glories gild the sky. Tliey come not arrayed one 
against the other, they move, not stepping to the 



212 THE VISION OF ODOACEK. 

measured notes of warlike instruments, but advan- 
cing liand in hand, tlie song of peace upon their 
lips, they meet to blend their prayers with thine, 
and burn incense upon thy consecrated shrines. 
Yain, vain the attempt to overcome thee by human 
force or skill ! The shield of religion shall guard 
thy gates from harm, and ward off irreverent ap- 
proach with rays of piercing light. Tlie heavenly 
warriors who stand upon the mountain of God shall 
keep watch and ward around thee ; they shall raise the 
red right arm to strike down any sacrilegious offender 
who should seek to wrest from thy hand the charter 
of thy sacred rights. Thou shalt go forth age after 
age conquering and to conquer, thy name, " the 
Eternal." Thy children shall witness the rise, tri- 
umph, and downfall of new nations and empires ; 
and the birth and death of cities whose mysterious 
names are known only in heaven. Thou meanwhile 
unchanged, wilt reign the mighty mistress of the 
world. The hour that sounds thy knell shall quench 
the sun, blot out the stars from heaven above, and 
witness the sight of the last of mankind breathing 
his last prayer to his God." 

The voice of the hermit died softly away like the 
last notes of a lute. The king of the ]!^orthmen 
looked towards the city, but deeper shadows had 
settled upon it, and he saw it no longer. When he 
turned, the hermit had disappeared from his side. 
He raised his eyes to the starry firmament above, 
remained some moments absorbed in thought, and 



THE VISION OF ODOACER. 213 

then treading reverently as if tlie place beneath his 
feet were holy ground, he wended his way slowly 
down the mountain side a wiser and better man than 
when he came np at morning. 



THE KING OF COLORS. 




THE KING OF COLORS. 



BEHELD in a dream this fantastical King 
Holding court 'mid the flowers and the sunshine of Spring, 
"Where birds of gay plumage are rocked by the breeze, 
As they perch on the blossoming boughs of the trees. 

He sits on a canopied throne, quaint of mould, 
Bepowdered with diamonds, and spangled with gold ; 
And the gaudiest butterfly e'er honey sipped. 
Is the emblem wherewith his tall sceptre is tipped. 

"When the wind and the tempest from ether are driven, 
He buildeth the arch of his triumph in heaven, 
He swings from the waterfall's margin in play, 
And his mantle of motley is washed by the spray. 

He lives in the sun-beams ; when night is at hand, 
"When the grey steeds of winter career o'er the land. 
He shuns their encounter and speeds him away 
Where the sun never sets and the flowers ne'er decay. 

He is fond of mankind — it is he lends a grace 
To the maiden when modesty purples her face, 
He beams on the lip, in the eye of the chUd, 
Whom the cold breath of malice has not yet defiled. 



218 THE KI.VG OF COLORS. 

J 
Yes, he loves us — and oft when the sun's gomg down, j 

Ere Darkness advance in her mantle of brown, ^ 

To salute us he hangs out his banners on high, 

"With bright hues adorning the sea and the sky. 

It was he that to Italy's fortunate Sage* j 

Appeared for the weal of a studious age ; 1 

A smile lit his features, majestic, yet bland, ^ 

And a wonderful diamond blazed in his hand. \ 

I 
"Take this gift," (thus he spoke,) "and no talisman's spell 
With magical craft could endow thee so well — 1 

Lift it up to the sun, and the proud king of day \ 

Must resign to thy power e'en his crown's brightest ray." 

" Henceforth to thine eye 't is permitted to scan j 

A mystery never laid open to man. 

An amusement this day to the sage has been given, \ 

Reserved hitherto for young Cherubs in heaven." 

The philosopher tested bis mystical sway 

Where his lattice was pierced by an arrowy ray. 

He held up the prism — and the sunbeams unrolled I 

The treasures of tint which their bosoms enfold. 

1 
A broad rainbow amazed the philosopher's view, ! 

Arabesquing his cell in red, green, gold, and blue ; 

And Light, that heard none save its Maker's command, 

Became subject that day to a mortal's frail hand. 

* Grimaldl. j 



THE LAKE OF BOLSENA. 



THE LAKE OF BOLSENA. 



THE travelled reader has had' occasion, no doubt, 
to notice the pleasant excitement which follows 
the announcement that some celebrated monument 
or wonder of nature is at length fairly in sight. 
"There is the dome of St. Peter's," rouses the travel- 
ler as he jolts along the desolate campagna towards 
the gates of Rome. " There is Mount Yesuvius," 
startles every body who goes by land to Naples, and 
every neck is stretched to look for the first time at 
the pillar of smoke that steams up from Yulcan's 
time-honored smithy. One particular night in 
autumn, I had been serving as a shuttlecock between 
the left shoulder of a heavy Dutch traveller, and 
the side of a villanous old coach for some hours, 
when we were roused by the Yeturino, who bent 
down, and hoarsely announced through the front 
window, " ecco I'isola d'Amalasunta," there is the 
island of Amalasunta. We let down the win- 
dow, and as we gazed, before us lay the beautiful 
LakeofBolsen a, equally famous for its classic associ- 



222 THE LAKE OF BOLSENA. 

ations, and the flavor of its unrivalled eels, which 
Horace delighted to eat, and Dante did not disdain 
to celebrate. Though the weather was mild the 
night was misty, and we dimly discovered the 
" island of blood" rising in the distance, npon the 
unruffled expanse of waters. 

We soon tumbled into the town of Bolsena, at- 
tracting the notice of sundry watch-dogs, who, in 
bark of various depth and volume, complained that 
we should infringe upon the monopoly of noise 
which they seemed to claim for themselves during 
the night, in virtue of some charter from the town 
authorities. After sleeping at a comfortable inn, 
some of us wended our way to the palace of the 
Marquis Cozza, and had the honor of being intro- 
duced to its owner. This ancient family was cele- 
brated during the Middle Ages for their warlike dis- 
' position, as various portraits hung around the palace 
walls bear ample testimony. Their descendants 
V breed cattle, poultry, and vegetables on the paternal 
jl estate, in place of the feuds and dissensions of for- 
V mer times. From the battlements of this old baro- 
nial residence we enjoyed a view of the beautiful 
lake, spread out like a silver mirror under the rays 
of the morning sun. The neighborhood affords an 
enchanting prospect, and though spread over a 
mountainous region, the district is extremely fertile. 
The vineyards which abound there, furnish the same 
wine for which Orvieto and Monte-Fiascone are so 
famous, and venerable authority, historical and 



THE LAKE OF BOLSENA. 223 

poetical, asserts that it always went well with the 
luscious eels of the lake. 

Our eyes immediately sought for the fatal island. 
It is small, but rises abruptly to some height above 
the surface of the lake. There is not far distant from 
it an islet smaller than the first one, equally roman- 
tic, and which also has its legend. But I will con- 
tent myself for the present with recounting the 
historical circumstances,connected with that of Ama- 
lasunta. 

This remarkable woman was a royal princess, 
daughter to Theodoric, the warlike king of the 
Goths. Perhaps she would have remained unknown 
in history had not singular circumstances placed her 
upon an eminence. Her father was comparatively 
young ; her husband, Cutaric, and her son, Atalaric, 
ensured the Goths of warlike male succession to the 
throne. Unexpectedly her husband died, and soon 
after Theodoric, by special providence, or human 
treachery, was hurried out of the world — Atalaric 
being only ten years old. Amalasunta was thus 
placed at the head of a pow^erful nation, used to bow 
with- submission only before a terrible military des- 
pot. She was equal to her new task. She kept up 
the vigor of Theodoric's government, and excelled 
him in prudence, conciliating the favor of the Greek 
Emperor Justinian, checking, by timely and far-see- 
ing management, the advance of the Yisigoths under 
Amalric, and gaining even the favor of the Senate 
and people of Rome. She kept near her person, 



224 THE LAKE OF BOLSENA. 

and employed in lier counsels, the celebrated Cassio- 
dorus. one of the most learned men and judicious 
writers of his age. Mild and generous with those 
who obeyed her rule — those who attempted to thwart 
her plans, found her as lion-hearted as her terrible 
father had been. She was, however, just and impar- 
tial, and it was found both a difficult and dangerous 
attempt to sow discontent among her subjects. 

The first serious disagreement between her and 
the leading men among her people, was the plan of 
education she marked out for her son Atalaric. 
The Goths could not understand the use of having 
him instructed in the craft of the Romans, called 
arts and sciences. They were scandalized at his 
being placed under Koman tutoi's and professors. 
The Queen Kegent was informed that they grumbled 
bitterly at her worrying their young master to death, 
and thought that she had the design of killing him 
by these stupid, unmanly studies, so as to get mar- 
ried and reign in his place. She treated their igno- 
rant impertinence with contempt. One day, how- 
ever, the matter took a serious form. Entering the 
room of her son, she found that careless boy, like a 
" neer-do-weel" that he was, engaged in some vulgar 
game, in place of studying the task which his old 
Roman doctor had proposed for his attentive perusal. 
The high-blooded woman gave him a sonorous box 
upon the ear, whereupon the booby ran out crying 
with might and main. The faces of the tough old 
Goths to whom he told the story of his sorrows, grew 



THE LAKE OF BOLSENA. 225 

amazingly long and tlionglitful at his blubbering 
narrative. They came to the conclusion that this 
was carrying love for literature to an unpardonable 
excess. The gravest and wisest of them considered 
it a matter of conscience to wait upon the queen, 
and tell her the Goths thought the way after which 
she educated her son an extremel}^ bad one. " ISTo 
man," said they, " who is fond of letters can be 
brave, for they only make one mean and chicken- 
hearted. Our excellent lord Theodoric did not know 
how to write his own name, nor how to read it when 
another had done it for him ; and yet see how many 
nations he has conquered. He never let the Goths 
go to school, for he knew very well that he who is 
afraid of a switch, will never stand up against the 
lance and the sword. Send away those musty old 
Koman pedants, and let your son be accompanied 
with young warriors of his own age, and trained up 
to reign after the plain old fashion of the Goths." 
Though such pretensions were extremely annoying 
to Amalasunta, she was forced to yield to them for 
fear of exasperating her people too far. This con-) 
descension was the ruin of Atalaric. The young \ 
men with whom he began to associate drew him' 
gradually into every vice, and rendered him deaf to | 
the wise counsels of his mother. They even began ; 
to sow disaflection among the people, representing 
how unbecoming it was that a woman should be the 
chief of such a warlike nation as the Goths. 

Things went so far that a conspiracy was formed 

11 



226 THE LAKE OF BOLSENA. 

against the government, and even tlie life of tlie 
queen. But she was wide awake, and resolved to 
frustrate their plans of treason. She found out that 
the chief promoters of disloyalty were three person- 
ages filling places of great trust in the kingdom. 
With admirable precaution she sent them to mili- 
tary commands on opposite ends of the kingdom, 
mider pretence that their valor alone could make 
the frontiers safe. Tliis might have made them her 
friends, or at least put an end to their machinations. 
It was not so in fact, however, for they still con- 
tinued to inflame the minds of the soldiers against 
the queen, keeping np by inflammatory letters their 
old connections, and plotting to deprive her of the 
regency and the tutorship of her son. Apprised of 
these proceedings, the proud-sonled woman resolved 
to settle matters for ever between herself and these 
petulant opponents. She wrote letters to the Em- 
peror Justinian, with whom she continued on terms 
of friendship, strengthened by the presents with 
which the adroit Amalasunta mollified the heart of 
the avaricious Greek. She mentioned that desiring 
some truce from the weighty cares of the adminis- 
tration, she meditated a little trip to Constantino- 
ple, and wished to know if she would l)e favorably 
received in case she should make her appearance in 
the imperial city. The answer was fully satisfactory. 
She next secretly dispatched a vessel to Durazzo 
in Albania with a few of her most trusty ministers, 
forty thousand pounds of gold, and other objects ot 



THE LAKE OF BOLSENA. 227 

rare value, with orders to await there her further 
pleasure. She then boldly ordered the three revo- 
lutionary leaders, who were now loud in their com- 
plaints against her, to be secretly, if it could be, 
summarily, at all hazards—put to death. Her satel- 
lites obeyed her orders, and no disturbance following 
whicli she could not control, the arrangements she 
had made to secure a retreat in case that this bold 
stroke should fail, were countermanded, and the trip 
to Constantinople put off to an indefinite period. 
/^xThe next affliction the queen had to endure was 
J- on the part of her son. The graceless Atalaric, for 
whom she had undergone so many trials, passed his 
time in excesses of eating and drinking with his 
infamous companions, and in the foulest and most 
reckless debauchery. In vain did his fond and no- 
ble mother endeavor to reclaim him, IS^t a trace 
of his former virtue or docility remained, and at the 
age of seventeen he died a victim of disease, brought 
on by his own folly. Even this grievous misfortune, 
though it sorely afflicted, did not discourage Amala- 
sunta. Her spirit and ambition remained unabated. 
She had thought first of resigning her power into 
the hands of the Greek Emperor, and retiring to 
Constantinople; but this hopeless design vanished 
with the momentary dejection wliich had suggested 
it.^ She resolved to hold fast the power she had 
wielded so far in lier son's behalf, and boldly assumed 
the style and title of Queen of the Goths. Casting 
warily around in her examination of Avhat element^ 



228 THE LAKE OF BOLSEN^A. 

would be likely to favor or thwart her plans, she 
found only one serious obstacle in the way, for 
among the nation in general those who loved her 
did not oppose her, and those who loved her not, 
feared her too much to show serious opposition. 

There was one man, Theodatus, the son of a sister 
of Theodoric, and consequently her cousin, whom 
Amalasunta found it hard to explain. He led then 
a retired life in Tuscany, but she was far too wary to 
trust him. He, like Boethius, and others at the 
court of Theodoric, had studied considerable litera- 
ture and some philosophy. He was a patron of 
learning, and could read and write — qualifications 
which then by themselves alone made a man a good 
deal of a scholar. He was cautious and prudent, 
but was also believed to be a miser and a coward. 
On one occasion he had practised audacious extor- 
tions in Tuscany, and after warning him suiRciently, 
Amalasunta, with her usual thoroughness of manner, 
had him summoned to Ravenna, tried before a 
court, and compelled to make over to the rightful 
owners, with far less ceremony than dispatch, the 
ill-gotten treasures wherewith he had filled his cof- 
fers. This was the kind of man it now became 
necessary for her to make sure of. The manner in 
which she set about solving the problem was charac- 
teristic. She might have tried to buy or bribe him, 
but she had oiFended him, and this would not be 
easy. She might have had him removed by secret 
violence, or open aggression ; but this would have 



THE LAKE OF BOLSENA. 229 

created suspicion, perhaps enmity in the whole king- 
dom against her. Amalasunta, moreover, though 
daring, was conscientious. She could hardly hope 
to intimidate him, for with full knowledge of her 
ambition, courage, and energy, he was now sup- 
posed to be plotting against her. Judging him to 
be a man of naturally mild disposition, whom disap- 
pointment only had soured, she resolved to gain him 
over by an act of unprecedented generosity. She 
made him an offer of partnership in her power, of 
the title of King of the Goths, and the hand of their 
Queen! By his acceptance of this splendid offer, 
she hoped that she would identify with her own the 
only interest that seemed at all likely to oppose it, 
while at the same time she felt confident that in 
simple fact all real power would remain in her own 
hands. Her reliance upon her diplomatic tact did 
not prevent her from binding Theodatus under a 
solemn oath to abide by the conditions upon which 
alone she wished him to assume the rank and style 
of sovereign. l!^ever was man more falsely judged, 
or woman more sadly deceived. The queen ought 
to have known that a nature so quiet as that of 
Theodatus in a bad man, could not but serve as a 
smooth surface to conceal the foulness of envy, 
malice, and hatred, where such passions had been 
once excited, and nursed through long years of 
neglect. Amalasunta feared and mistrusted Theo- 
datus, but she was noble and generous — Theodatus 
hated Amalasunta, and he was neither. As soon as 



230 THE LAKE OF BOLSENA. 

he came into power, the perfidious wretch unscrupu- 
lously broke every promise he had made, and re- 
membered nothing in his benefactress but her former 
severe justice against his person. 
,-\With the bhnd fury of a vicious nature, long dor- 
/mant, but suddenly roused to action by the stings of 
vengeance, hatred, and jealousy, he resolved and 
accomplished the downfall of the queen, with a 
brutality of violence which even she was unable to 
parry. Attacking first her outward defences, in a 
short period he caused all who were influential and 
her friends to be murdered. He had succeeded 
already in alienating the affections of the people ; 
and to complete her misery and disappointment, he 
had her removed by sudden force from the brilliant 
theatre of her exploits to the little island of the Lake 
of Bolsena, which now bears her name. 

Here was confined in bitter solitude the lion-like 
daughter of Theodoric, the first King of the Goths. 
/ Her complaints against the treachery of one whom 
/ she had raised from dishonorable obscurity to a 
royal throne, were answered only by the rippling of 
the waves of the lake against the rocky barriers of 
her j)rison. A terrible catastrophe still remained to 
consummate the misery of the unfortunate queen, 
and the celebrity of the island of blood which was to 
become her tomb. Theodatus had recourse to the 
groundless accusation of conjugal infidelity, to blast 
her reputation among the Goths ; and that her death 
might be as cruel as ignominious, he empowered 



^ 



THE LAKE OF BOLSENA. 231 

those among tlie barbarian nobility who nurtured 
the oldest and most bitter feelings of revenge against 
her, to proceed to the island as the ministers of his 
"wary and watchful justice. They fully understood 
the nature of their mission, and glutted their own 
revenge, while they calmed the apprehensions of 
the tyrant, by the horrid method of strangling the 
wretched princess in a bath. 

The cruelty of Theodatus did not remain unpu- 
nished. The Emperor Justinian, either for the sake 
of a pretext to move against the Goths, or out of re- 
/ spect for the memory of the murdered Amalasunta, 
i ordered the imperial army to march against Theo- 
datus, under the far-famed commander Belisarius. 
The cowardly monarch, being unfit to defend the 
kingdom against so great a general, and the Goths 
seeing the danger resulting from his dastardly irreso- 
lution, put him to death, and elected another chief 
in his stead. 



THE REPUBLIC OF SAN MARINO. 



11 



J"- 



THE REPUBLIC OF SAN MARINO. 



AMERICANS have always, for obvious reasons, 
felt and shown an interest in the little Sister 
Republic of San Marino, but few know much more 
about it than its name and size. This sketch will 
give a brief account of it, and the statements it 
embodies may be relied upon as true, for they are 
supported by the best authorities that could be con- 
sulted on the subject. The little city of San Marino 
is situated on the top of a high isolated mountain, 
whose ancient name is Monte Titano, ten miles from 
the shore of the Adriatic Sea, to the south-east of 
the city of Rimini, and is surrounded on all sides by 
the province of the States of the Church commonly 
called Romagna. The whole territory of the Repub- 
lic comprises at the present time not more than 
twenty-one square miles, and its population does not 
exceed seven thousand five hundred souls. The first 
, inhabitant of the wild summit of the mountain was 
{ Marino, a stone-mason, who came from Dalmatia to 
Rimini some time after the middle of the fourth cen- 



236 THE REPUBLIC OF SAN MARINO. 

tury. He was a pious and intelligent man, and was 
ordained Deacon by Gaudentins, Bishop of Rimini, 
who found him useful in instructing the poor of his 
Diocese, and encouraging them to bear patiently the 
trials and persecutions to which they were exposed 
on account of their faith. 

These persecutions drove Marino to seek an asy- 
lum among the desert rocks of the Titano, which he 
had visited probably in search of materials when 
exercising his craft as a mason. He hewed out for 
himself a house, and a bed in the rock, and cleared 
a little place for a garden. Soon, however, he was 
followed by others, attracted by the simple wisdom 
and the fervent piety of the holy man, and thus in 
time there were added to his rustic dwelling a her- 
mitage and a little church. Among the names of 
his companions that of Leo, afterwards consecrated 
Bishop, has been preserved by tradition. A small 
Christian community was thus formed, and the inno- 
cence and quietness of its members, as well as the 
remoteness of its location, protected it from being 
( molested. Marino educated his hardy followers in 
I the love of peace, honesty, and liberty, and left them 
I at his death many wise rules which have been 
; I handed down century after century to the present 
I' day. Thus an Ecclesiastic became the founder of 
the oldest commonwealth in the world. He was, 
and is still venerated as a saint, and churches were 
erected in honor of his name, and in commemoration 
of miracles performed through his intercession in 



THE EEPUBLIC OF SAN MAEINO. 237 

various parts of Italy. In the ancient prayer in his 
honor reported by the Bollandists, he is styled 
" Preacher of the Gospel and Founder of Liberty." 
But the noblest monument of his fame is the prin- 
cipal church of San Marino, on the front of which 
stands the inscription : 

Divo JVTarino Patrono 

Et Libertatis Auctori 

D C P S. 

" Dedicated to Saint Marino, their Patron, and 
Founder of their Liberty, by the Captains and Peo- 
ple of San Marino." 

The people who from him derive their name, and 
their unique free civil condition, love and venerate 
their Patron as devoutly at the present day as they 
did thirteen centuries ago. One of their earliest 
troubles was an attempt on the part of Astolpho, 
King of the Longobards, to steal the relics of their 
favorite saint, which he desired' to present to the 
people of Pavia for a church they had erected in 
honor of Saint Marino's name. I shall not stop to 
treat the question whether the San Marinesi foiled 
the barbarian by stratagem, or whether he himself 
palmed off another body on the good people of 
Pavia as that of the Patron Saint of Liberty. I take 
sides with the Republicans against the Longobard 
King, and as Astolpho had notoriously broken faith 
with the Pope, I have no doubt he would have told 



238 THE REPUBLIC OF SAN MARINO. 

a lie to the people of Pavia or any other place if it 
suited his plans to do so. 

The allusions to San Marino in history are for cen- 
turies few and far between. It is settled beyond a 
doubt, however, that the little community lived on, 
and was governed in a patriarchal manner by the 
Priests, who succeeded St. Marino in authority at 
his hermitage, and when it gradually assumed the 
form of a Monastery by the Monk who was its reli- 
gious superior. We accordingly find in old chroni- 
cles honorable mention of a Monk named Basilicius, 
who was the great man at San Marino, and one of 
the early successors of its sainted founder. Again a 
legal document of the ninth century, preserved in 
the archives of the Republic, contains the decision 
of a lawsuit about some property between a Bishop 
of Pimini, and " Stephen, Priest and Abbot of the 
Monastery of San Marino, on Monte Titano," in 
which Stephen and our friends his mountaineers 
came off victorious. In the tenth century, the peo- 
ple of Italy first began to change their mode of 
living scattered about the country, and came to 
reside in places walled and fortified against the 
sudden inroads of barbarians, marauders, or unruly 
neighbors. The San Marinesi imitated their neigh- 
bors, and turned their aerial residence into a strong- 
hold which now comes to be spoken of more 
frequently as Oastellu?n, and not Monasterium^ in 
mediaeval chronicles. 

In 951, they gave a brilliant proof of the hospi- 



THE REPUBLIC OF SAN MARINO. 239 

tality for which they have been ever deservedly 
renowned, and which more than once got them into 
trouble, for in that year they gave shelter to no 
less a personage than the Emperor Berengarins and 
some of his followers, defeated by the victorious 
arms of the Emperor Otlio. A Bull of Pope Hono- 
rius II., dated 1126, confirms the Episcopal jurisdic- 
tion of Peter Bishop of Montefeltro, and names 
particularly as subject to his See the town and 
fortress of San Marino. In the thirteenth and four- 
teenth century the mountaineers added to their 
little town, some pieces of land bought from the 
Count Carpegna and the neighboring Abbey of St. 
Gregory, as appears in ancient documents still pre- 
served in their archives. 

: --vln the twelfth and thirteenth centuries the little 
/republic saw its form of government copied all 
^' over Italy, every town, village, and hamlet electing 
Consuls, and an assembly of Senators in imitation 
of ancient Eome and Athens. Yery little change 
was needed in San Marino, to square with the new 
order of ideas. The executive and judiciary busi- 
ness of the place was already attended to, by two 
or three persons known as magistrates, who now 
came to be styled Consuls, and the people had 
always exercised legislative functions through the 
heads of families who had been in the habit of 
meeting to decide upon all matters of more than 
common importance. We grieve to have to record 
the fact that in the thirteenth century civil war 



240 THE KEPUBLIC OF SAN MARINO. 

raged in the mountain nest of Liberty, wliicli we are 
so anxious to speak of only in terms of praise. This 
sad state of things was brought about by the vertigo 
which spread all over Italy during the fierce dissen- 
sions of the Guelphs and Ghibellines. What is still 
worse the Eepublican mountaineers were on the 
side of the German despot, Frederic II., and opposed 
to the Guelph, or Pontifical party, which, badly as its 
followers often behaved, must nevertheless be 
regarded as the side which favored the national 
independence of Italy. Still there is much to be 
said in defence of the false step taken by the San 
Marines!. They were drawn into the contest by 
their ancient friendship for the Counts of Monte- 
feltro, who were Ghibellines, and still more by the 
arts of Ugolino, Bishop of Eimini, afterwards excom- 
municated by the Pope. Ugolino, and some of the 
warlike prelates wdio succeeded him, tried hard to 
get the town and suburbs of the Kepublic into their 
own hands, using the representatives of the Koman 
Court to efiect their ambitious purpose. The 
mountain men, however, resisted all such attempts 
at encroachment, and sufi'ered sore distress, and 
ecclesiastical censure in consequence. Tlie Popes, 
however, w^hen the merits of the case were made 
known to them, always ended by removing the in- 
terdict, and protecting the liberties of San Marino 
against the claims of the Bishops of Eimini, the 
rapacity of the neighboring Barons, and even the 
biassed decisions of the Papal Envoj^s themselves. 



THE EEPUBLIC OF SAN MARINO. 241 

Philip, Archbishop of Ravenna, Legate of the Holy 
See, a great and good man, befriended the Republi- 
cans, and in January, 1252, held a meeting of the 
leaders of the two parties in the Church of San 
Marino, and published there the Truce of God, the 
conditions of which were solemnly agreed to by 
both factions, and as usual, broken and forgotten 
almost as soon as the ink was dry on the parchment 
upon which they had been recorded. The same 
poor success attended the exertions of Boniface, 
Philip's successor, to appease party spirit in Ro- 
magna. Honorable mention should be made here of 
the good Canon, Theodoric, vicar of the Rector or 
Papal Envoy in the same province. The worthy 
Canon called upon the people of San Marino to pay 
to him certain taxes which went to make up what 
was called his salary. The doughty Republicans 
refused this payment, stating bluntly that they never 
paid tribute of the kind to any one, not even the 
Pope or the Emperor. Theodoric called to his 
assistance a doctor learned in the law, named 
Palamedes, and having held a commission of inquiry 
in the territory of the republic, after due examina- 
tion of its rights and the questioning of many wit- 
nesses, he decided that the men of San Marino were 
a free, independent commonwealth, and nobly 
withdrew all claims against them. 

A further luminous proof of the recognised inde- 
pendence of the little Republic was given some- 
thing after the same fashion in 1296. The demand 



242 THE REPUBLIC OF SAN MARINO. 

for payment of tribute came tliis time from the Po- 
dest^, or Governor of Montefeltro, and tlie San Ma- 
rinesi appealed for justice to Pope Boniface YIII. 
The Pope treated our friends very handsomely. He 
appointed arbiters with power to act and decide in 
his name, " The discreet and wise man Master Uguc- 
cione di Yercelli, Canon-Subdeacon, Chaplain to His 
Holiness, and Judge of the Sacred Palace, and Teo- 
dorico. Pontifical Chamberlain," who finding it im- 
possible to be on the spot, delegated their authority 
to the "religious man Master Rainieri, Abbot of 
the Monastery of St. Anastasius in the Diocese of 
Rimini." 

The worthy Father Abbot called before him the 
representatives of the parties to the suit, and nume- 
rous witnesses to what had been the customs of the 
Republic in times gone by, and did not fail to ex- 
amine carefully as a precedent in point the decision, 
which we have described as having been made by 
the vicar, the good Theodoric, whose justice and 
disinterestedness proved of great benefit to San Ma- 
rino, for its cause this time also came out trium- 
phant. The good Father Abbot was not satisfied 
wdth a meagre statement of facts, but put the intel- 
ligence of the hardy mountaineers to the test by 
asking many of the witnesses, what was meant by 
exemption from tribute, and by propounding the 
momentous question, " Quid est lihertas f what is 
liberty ? In the ofiicial document drawn up on the 
occasion he gives us the answers lie received from 



THE REPUBLIC OF SAN MARINO. 243 

many of tliem, wliicli agreed with one another, and 
were very much to the point. One replied that he 
meant by liberty, " to be under subjection to no 
man ;" another, " to be under vassalage to no one ;" 
another, "to be subjected to no one by law;" still 
another, " to not be obliged to do that which is done 
by other men who are somebody's subjects ;" and 
finally, a stout old son of the mountain gave this 
simple but expressive answer, worthy of a Christian 
philosopher, " Hominem esse liberum, et habere 
suum, et de eo non teneri alicui nisi Domino l^ostro ; 
Jesu Christo," i. e. " to be a freeman, and hold one's \ 
property without being accountable for it to any- ■ 
body but our Lord Jesus Christ." This last witness 
testified under oath that he was seventy years old, 
and his name (which deserves to be preserved) was 
Martin Montecucco. 

In the fourteenth century the Kepublic found 
time, in spite of its difficulties with its neighbors, to 
frame and adopt a new code of laws, and although 
its two chief magistrates still exercised the authority 
of Consuls, their name was changed to the more 
modern designation of Captains. A new Palace of 
the Commonwealth, or town-hall, was erected, and 
the Supreme Council of twelve citizens afterwards 
increased to sixty, and even eighty, there held stat- 
ed meetinf^s. 

During the absence of the Popes in Avignon, 
their legates fell out more than once with the Re- 
publicans. Among these disagreements was a seri- 



244 THE REPUBLIC OF SAN MARINO. 

0U8 one under the administration of the celebrated 
Captain, the Cardinal Egidio or Giles Albomoz. The 
fiery Spaniard seemed inclined to use high-handed 
measures with the mountaineers, but it is pleasant 
to state to his credit, that after some time all matters 
in dispute between them and him and his master 
the Pope, were amicably and satisfactorily adjusted. 
Under the pontificate of Innocent YI., about the 
year 1360, they had the further satisfaction of seeing 
their ancient liberties confirmed by two hereditary 
enemies, that is to say, a Podesta of Montefeltro, 
and a Bishop of Pimini. Tlie civil official in this 
case was Giovanni Levalossi, and the clerical, Mon- 
signer Peruzzi. More illustrious testimony still was 
rendered to their ancient worth and independence 
by Giberto da Corregio, Yicar of Pomagna, and by 
the Cardinal Anglico, Bishop of Albano and Legate 
of the Holy See. In the instructions left by the lat- 
ter to his successor in office, he states distinctly that 
" the people of San Marino had always been free, 
and administered their own laws with the acquies- 
cence of the Church, and that they recognised no 
civil authority on the part of the Church herself, or 
her officials ; and that they were, in short, their own 
masters, owing obedience to no external authority." 
Tills passage was extracted from an old MS. in 
the Poyal Library of Paris, by the learned Cardinal 
Stephen Borgia, and appears in full in the second 
volume of his Annals of Benevento. Cardinal An- 
glico was brother to Pope Urban Y. 



THE REPUBLIC OF SAN MARINO. 245 

They were more than once troubled by traitors in 
the town, unworthy republicans, who engaged in 
conspiracies to sell the liberties and property of 
their home to some nnscrnpulous neighbor. Tlie 
heads of the Kepublic made an example of one 
among these miscreants named Giacomo Pelizzano, 
whom they caused to be hung in the market-place 
in 1375. On a later occasion the Council of Go- 
vernment decreed that any republican discovered to 
have turned traitor, and caught conspiring against 
the freedom and just rights of his country, should 
be ignominiously dragged to execution, "at tlie 
donkey's tail " {ad caudam asini). 

In 1396 they got into some litigation with Pope 
Boniface IX., but through the friendly offices of the 
Counts of Urbino, their ancient allies, now recon- 
ciled with the Roman court, the Pope yielded all 
claims affecting their cherished independence. We 
have mentioned that they were often placed in a 
position of serious difficulty, on account of the gene- 
rous hospitality extended by them to all fugitives 
from the fierce persecutions, on the part of their op- 
ponents, so common during the civil wars of the 
Middle Ages. Indeed, at a somewhat later period, 
they were compelled to pass laws regulating the 
admission of strangers, especially if noble and aris- 
tocratic, into the precincts of their territory. They 
gave a very spirited answer to a powerful Count of 
the family of Malatesta of Pimini, with whom they 
were on temporary t^rms of friendship during the 



246 THE EEPUBLIC OF SAN MAEINO. 

exile of their old favorites the Ghibelline Counts of 
Montefeltro. Malatesta bitterly complained that 
they gave an asylum to many of the enemies of his 
house, and so brought their faith as trusty allies 
into warrantable suspicion. The San Marinesi told 
their warlike and powerful friend that " they would 
admit no enemy of the Malatesta into their strong- 
holds and fortresses, for they had bound themselves 
not to do so, but that they would never consent to 
banish from the open portions of their territory any 
one who took refuge in their midst so long as he 
behaved himself decently." The Malatesta, be it 
recorded to his honor, showed no anger at the les- 
son thus taught him by the Kepublicans, nor did he 
seek to punish them for their fearlessness in teach- 
ing it. 

Few facts occurred during the fifteenth century 
to interest a general reader. They had some inter- 
nal disagreements about the election of Judges ot 
appeal, an improvement on their old system of juris- 
prudence, but Pope Martin Y. came to their relief, 
and kindly named judges for them, at their own 
request. Martin died in 1431. 

More interesting is the account given by various 
writers of the interchange of civilities between 
them, and the noble and high-minded Enea Silvio 
Piccolomini, better known as Pope Pius II. The 
old factions of the Guelphs and Ghibellines had 
dwindled down to insignificance at tlie time of this 
pontiff's reign, but Italy was scourged and exhaust- 



THE REPUBLIC OF SAN MARINO. 247 

ed by a quarrelsome brood of barons, counts, and 
signorotti, whom those great parties had left behind 
them, as heirs of their restlessness, bravery, and 
rapacity. Sigismondo Malatesta, tyrant or Governor 
of Rimini, was as hot-headed and nnscrupnlons as 
any of his fighting ancestors, and good Pope Pius 
had resolved, at any cost, to put an end to the dis- 
turbances he occasioned in the pontifical dominions. 
He wrote to the men of San Marino, reminding 
them of the cruelty and the ingratitude of the wicked 
Sigismondo, who had been at one time appointed 
Yicar or Governor in the name of the Holy See, 
and had used his power only to bring hatred upon 
his employer, and distrain the unfortunate district 
confided to his care. The San Marinesi had strong 
reasons of their own for disliking their turbulent 
neighbor Sigismondo, and were driven to unbound- 
ed rage against him by the specimen of his diaboli- 
cal disposition which w^e are about to relate. 

It so befel somewhere about a century previous to 
this time, say in 1360, tliat one Messer Giambattisti 
being nigh unto death, and sorry for his sins, made 
a will and left a generous donation to build up in 
honor of the Blessed Yirgin a monastery of the 
order of Servites in a place called Yaldragone, near 
the suburb or modern part of the town of San 
Marino. But the reader must know why this place 
was called Yaldragone or the Yalley of the Serpent. 
An old chronicle informs us that right in the place 
where the monastery was to be built, an enormous 



248 THE REPUBLIC OF SAN MARINO. 

snake made liis appearance, devouring any number 
of men, women, and children, and so terrifying the 
rest that the monastery was never built for a whole 
century. Was this enormous reptile some real live 
monster from the caves of the neighboring Apen- 
nines, or was it the old enemy of all good works, the 
veritable ancient serpent, who so often stirs up un- 
faithful heirs and executors, and pettifogging law- 
yers, to neglect and defeat the intentions set forth 
by the pious in their last will and testament? We 
are unable to decide the matter, so we pass on to 
chronicle the advent to San Marino of that holy 
man Father Paul dei Spannocchi, a native of 
Sienna, who preached to the Republicans the Lent 
of 1441. The San Marinesi have always been fond 
of their church and their religion, and they were 
charmed with the unction and eloquence of Father 
Paul. They gave him the freedom of their city, and 
begged him to come to them again with such affec- 
tionate hospitality, that the worthy father promised 
to accept their invitation. They assured him that if 
he kept his word they would place means at his dis- 
posal for the carrying out of the intentions of old 
Giambattisti, and assist him in erecting the long- 
neglected Monastery in Yaldragone. AYhen the 
favorite preacher came back to the mountain, he 
exhibited before his deliglited hearers a picture of 
Blessed Mary, with the Infant Saviour and the Holy 
Virgins and Martyrs Saint Catherine and Saint Bar- 
bara, painted, says the chronicle, '^ according to the 



THE REPUBLIC OF SAN MARINO. 249 

art of the Belgians," wliicli probably means that it 
was an oil i)ainting, something hitherto nnseeii in 
that neighborhood. Curiosity brought numbers to 
see this new and wonderful work of art ; devotion 
drew still greater numbers to venerate it, and listen 
to the sermons of the eloquent religious. But that 
hardened wretch and daring freebooter, Sigismondo 
Malatesta, did not care about the fine arts, and 
never showed any inclination to piety until he re- 
ceived, as we shall see, the thrashing he richly 
deserved for his villanous practices. He began to 
suspect that some political purpose, hostile to him- 
self, might be hidden under the piety that drew so 
many hard-fisted rustics together, and forbade all 
those subject to his command to attend the religious 
assem.blies presided over by Father Paul. ^His 
orders being of course disregarded by the people, 
he determined to give vent to his anger, both 
against the preacher and the San Marinesi, for friars 
and republicans he hated alike. He, therefore, dis- 
patched into the territory of the Republic a band of 
his most desperate bravos, who were ordered, under 
coyer of darkness, to seize upon Father Paul and 
bring him dead or alive before their worthy chief at 
Rimini. These desperadoes accomplished their task, 
and speedily marched off with their prisoner. But 
getting entangled among thickets, rocks, and ravines, 
they strayed about all night, and when at daybreak 
they thought they were close upon Rimini, thoy 
found themselves near the point from which they 

12 



250 THE REPUBLIC OF SAN MAEINO. 

had started, and in full sight of a gigantic cross 
the good Father had erected as a rallying point for 
the faithful who came together to hear him preach. 
Filled with rage and disappointment, they became 
so infuriated that they now determined to accom- 
plish the part they had omitted of the tyrant's com- 
mands. Tliey threw a rope around the neck of their 
victim, and actually hung him up on the cross at the 
foot of which he was accustomed to preach. But 
the peasants were now astir, and the bravoes, terri- 
fied by the enormity of the crime they had commit- 
ted, slunk away from the scene of murder. Who 
shall describe the grief of the mountaineers when 
they saw who it was that hung from an arm of the 
cross that had so often reminded them to say their 
morning prayers as they came down at sunrise to 
work in the vineyards and olive yards, at the base 
of the hill ? Who shall depict their joy when, hav- 
ing cut him down with great devotion, they found 
that life was not extinct, and succeeded in restoring 
the good father to consciousness and health ? 
Finally, w^hat words can pen or tongue find to de- 
scribe their rage against the sacrilegious Riminesc 
marauders and their diabolical ringleader, Sigis- 
mondo ! Tliey turned out — the people of Urbino 
turned out, the Pope's men turned out ; all fought 
like tigers, but none like 'the mountain men from 
San Marino, and in an incredibly short time the 
]>owerful tyrant of Ilomngua was completely beaten, 
kuclt a mean siipi)liant at the feet of the Holy Fa- 



THE REPUBLIC OF SAN MARINO. 251 

ther, signed away all claims to the strong places he 
had usurped, and was glad, at length, to retire from 
the scorn of all Italy, and donning the cross to go 
and throw away the remnant of his ill-spent life, 
fighting against the Turks in Palestine. 

So, then, Father Paul did not die a martyr. The 
Pope, well pleased with the bravery and religious 
fervor of the San Marines!, gave them great honors 
and increase of territory, and there was a season of* 
rejoicing on top of the Titan Mount such as had 
never been witnessed before, and the sermon that 
was preached surpassed all the former efforts in that 
line, even of our worthy friend Father Paul him- 
self. 

The sixteenth century opened in darkness and sor 
row for the little mountain Pepublic. An evil eye 
was turned upon their strongholds, and an iron hand 
laid upon the very heart of their ancient liberties. 
The province of Komagna was now overrun by a 
tyrant more brave, more vast in his ambition, and 
probably more cruel and vile than any of his wicked 
predecessors — we mean the Duke of Yalentino, 
Caesar Borgia. Tlie San Marinesi were so terrified 
at the approach and the threats of this fierce in- 
vader, that having hastily assembled in council, they 
resolved to send an embassy to the Republic of 
Venice, imploring them for protection, showing in 
touching terms how much sympathy the little lie- 
public was entitled to on the part of the Govern- 
ment which of all other Italian Commonwealths it 



252 THE KEPUBLIC OF SAN MARINO. 

most resembled, and offering to yield up everything 
excej)t the merest vestige of their ancient popular 
freedom, if the Lion of St. Mark would come to 
their relief in the appalling distress which now hung 
over them. They begged the Senate of Yenice to 
send somebody to them to rule over them in republi- 
can form, and promised to obey faithfully, and sub- 
mit to anything rather than crouch to the hated 
Borgian slavery with which they were threatened. 
The elegant Venetian historian. Cardinal Bembo, 
tells us that " the Fathers did not deem it fitting: on 
their part to receive the offer" made by their little 
Sister Republic. We should be pleased to read any 
good reason why they refused to do so under circum- 
stances so awful. It is certain that the Merchant 
Princes did selfishly refuse to come to the assistance 
of San Marino, and that Providence did not desert 
the latter in their sore necessity, for after their city 
had been occupied for a few months by the follow- 
ers of the Borgia, they had the satisfaction of turn- 
ing them out neck and heels from their elevated 
strongholds, and of assisting the neighboring princes 
to belabor them and their master soundly on the 
plains beneath. During this campaign it was that 
the San Marino leaders wrote up to the Magistracy 
to send them the flag of the Republic, for their men 
would fight the Borgia mucli belfter under that than 
under the ensign of any power foreign to their Re- 
public. 

Ca3sar died, and liis Fatlier Pope Alexander YL, 



THE REPUBLIC OF SAN MARINO. 253 

died, and liis successor Pope Pius III. also died 
after having been Pope for only twenty-six days. 
We are glad to be able to say that the warlike Pon- 
tiff who succeeded Pius III., the protector of free- 
dom, learning, and the arts, the friend of Michael 
Angelo and Paphael, Pope Julius 11. , was an ally 
good and true to our friends of San Marino. He 
was elected in 1503, and during one of his earliest 
expeditions he visited San Marino in person, and 
received there a plain Pepublican reception, but so 
honest and affectionate that according to his histo- 
rian and friend, the learned and accomplished Car- 
dinal Hadrian, His Holiness went away pleased, nay, 
delighted. He had declared to the Sacred College 
of Cardinals that Providence had made him Pope to 
be the destroyer of tyrants, and assuredly some pro- 
vidential man with a vocation of this sort, was much 
needed in It,aly when he became its most powerful 
Kuler. A born enemy of tyrants could not but be 
the friend of our Mountaineer Republicans, and 
Julius was generous and true to them during the 
whole of his eventful Pontificate. Pandolfo Mala- 
testa, fully as wicked as his uncle Sigismondo, and 
far meaner even than he, ended his ignoble career 
by selling the City of Rimini to the Republic of Ve- 
nice. About the same time Guidubaldo last Duke 
of Urbino died, and in him ended the illustrious and 
ancient family of the Montefeltri always so just, so 
generous, so kind towards their neighbors of San 
Marino. The Pope was angry, the Republicans 



254 THE EEPUBLIC OF SAN MARINO. 

frio^litened. The successor of Guidubaldo in the 
Diichy of Urbino was Francesco Maria della 
Rovere, son of Johanna of Montefeltro who had mar- 
ried the nephew of Pope Sixtus lY. He promised 
that he would imitate the friendship for San Marino 
of the Counts of Montefeltro from whom he partially 
descended, and he kept his word. Julius on the 
other hand bade them fear nothing of their new 
neighbors, the Yenetians, for they were not hostile 
to the Holy See, "and," continued the good Pope in 
the off-hand manner characteristic of the official 
papers of his Pontificate, " if they should be hostile, 
the Holy See is strong enough not to fear them, 
and amply able to take care of itself, and stand by 
its friends." " You have always been free," he went 
on to say, " and remember, that there is nothing 
sweeter than Liberty, and the protection of the 
Church, which you have always enjoyed, and enjoy 
now, and which we promise you shall continue to 
enjoy for the future." The paper in which these 
friendly sentiments were recorded, was a precious 
boon to our Republicans, and when Julius finally 
died, they regretted his loss, for he had nobly and 
publicly confirmed their liberty and independence, 
and given them credit for honesty and patriotism to 
which they were fairly entitled. A beautiful letter 
was written about these times to the nephew of the 
Pope, the new Duke of Urbino, by the Chiefs of the 
Republic. He liad called upon them to take pos- 
session of the persons, the women, and children, and 



THE REPUBLIC OF SAN MARINO. 255 

the property of certain refugees from Rimini, who 
had sought an asylum in the territory of San Marino. 
Their answer assumed the form of a moral lecture. 
They showed him how unworthy it was on his part 
to seek to destroy the neutral position of his Kepnb- 
lican friends, who had only sheltered and protected 
the weak and unfortunate, and ended by saying that 
the citizens of San Marino would rather all die than 
prove recreant to the faith they had given from no 
other motive than kindness of heart towards those in 
distress. The Duke was not only not offended at 
this specimen of Kepnblican honesty, but desisted 
from all further demands on the subject. 

The Republic was on friendly terms with the 
great and powerful family of the Medici of Florence, 
who next appear upon the ever varying scene of 
Italian politics. Leo X., and the Duke Lorenzo, and 
Clement YIL, treated the San Marinesi with distinc- 
tion, and the San Marinesi used their influence to 
obtain forgiveness for the people of the neighboring 
town of St. Leo who had happened to find them- 
selves in the party opposed to Mediccan views. 
Under Pope Urban YIIL, the Montefeltro family 
came to a final extinction, their Estates became the 
property of the Church, whose dominions now sur- 
rounded the territory of San Marino on every side, 
and the Church therefore became their sole neighbor 
and protector. Pope Urban very handsomely con- 
firmed their Republican liberties, and encouraged 
tlie people to imitate the honest and simple virtues 



256 THE REPUBLIC OF SAN MARINO. 

of their ancestors, and Paul III. pronounced a sen- 
tence of excommunication against any person, even 
his own officials, who should attempt to destroy their 
ancient independence. After the extinction of old- 
fashioned forays and civil wars much apathy in 
regard to the well-being of their city had crept in, 
no one seemed to care how or by whom public offi- 
ces of trust and honor were administered, and the 
periodical assemblies were thinly and listlessly 
attended. This oscitancy, so fatal to the Eepublican 
form of Government, even increased as the citizens 
grew wealthier by the exercise of the peaceful arts 
which were now their only occupation. 

A noted historical character appeared in the early 
part of the eighteenth century to rouse the slumber- 
ing Eepublicans from their apathy by a daring at- 
tempt to crush their independence at a single blow. 
This bold aggressor was the celebrated Cardinal 
Alberoni. Born in the Duchy of Parma in lG6i, 
where his father was a gardener, he too cultivated 
the soil until his fourteenth year, after which time 
he thought he had made his fortune by being pro- 
moted to the post of bell-ringer in the Cathedral of 
Piacenza. In course of time, he became the most 
extensive political intriguer in Europe, and Prime 
Minister of Philip Y. of Spain. England and 
Erance were allied against him in favor of Austria, 
from which he succeeded in separating Sardinia and 
Sicily. He espoused the cause of the Pretender, and 
drew Peter the Great and Charles XII. of Sweden 



THE REPUBLIC OF SAN MARINO. 257 

into liis plots not only, but was actually in league 
with the Sultan, whom he wished to embroil in a 
war with the Emperor. France and England de- 
clared war against Spain in 1Y18, and only made 
peace on condition that Alberoni should be dis- 
missed. On the eve of accomplishing his gigantic 
schemes, he was disgraced and went to Genoa, where 
Pope Innocent XIII. , who saw through him and de- 
spised him, had him arrested and brought to trial 
before his brethren of the Sacred College. He was 
no doubt the first Cardinal who had ever invited the 
Turks to come and shed Christian blood, and being 
found guilty on this charge, he was placed in a house 
of the Jesuit Fathers, in Rome, there to do penance 
for his sins of ambition. But his restless spirit could 
not brook the peacefulness and uniformity of such a 
life. Frederic the Great of Prussia, speaking of 
Alberoni in his Memoires deBrandehourg^ says that 
"Inaction is death for the ambitious, and Alberoni 
would have wished for two worlds so as to have the 
melancholy satisfaction of turning them upside 
down." Who could be a better judge in such mat- 
ters than Frederic himself? In an evil hour Albe- 
roni succeeded in getting himself appointed Legate 
of Komagna under Clement XIL, a good and amiable 
sovereign, but far advanced in years. San Marino 
was chosen by the Cardinal as the subject of his in- 
trigues and violence. He manoeuvred things in 
Pome so as to get the necessary power, and plotted 
and planned in Pomagna so as to draw the Pepublic 

12-^ 



258 THE KEPUBLIC OF SAN MAKING. 

into his snares. He then managed to get into the 
city, and after many strokes of policy — long to de- 
scribe — some bold and some wary, he finally drew 
the magistrates together in the Parish Church, and 
with great pomp and solemnity called upon them 
before the altar to swear away the freedom of their 
native city, and bind themselves in vassalage to him 
and the Pope for ever. This happened on the 24th 
of October, 1739. Some he had gained over already, 
the others he hoped to overawe and take by sur- 
prise, and in case of renitency, the Church was sur- 
rounded by his followers. Two of the Magistrates 
shamefully registered the required oath. Next the 
Captain Giangi stood before the Cardinal and spoke 
fearlessly as follows : " On the first day of October 
I swore fidelit^r to my only lawful master, viz. the 
Kepublic of San Marino; that oath I now repeat, and 
swear to keep inviolatei" Girolamo Gozzi repeated 
nearly the same words. Giuseppe Onofrii in his 
turn taking for his text the words of our Saviour, 
" Let this Chalice pass away from me," gave the 
Cardinal what is called familiarly a piece of his 
mind, and pointing to tlie image of Saint Marino, 
tlie founder and father of their liberty, he protested 
that he would not insult their holy protector in his 
own church, but would cry for ever — " Long live 
Saint Marino, long live freedom !" " Viva San 
Marino^ viva la liherta .^" 

The deacon assisting at mass took up these words 
in a fit of patriotic enthusiasm, and his loud voice 



THE REPUBLIC OF SAN MARINO. 259 

rang over the heads of the crowd, and along the 
vaulted roof of the ancient church. 

The foiled despot broke forth in a fit of uncontrol- 
lable rage, and berated the Kepublicans, making use 
of the coarsest language. The divine offices were 
irreverently hurried through, and he retired to his 
house ordering arrests and confiscations without num- 
ber. His measures of revenge were cut short, how- 
ever, by the paternal interposition of Pope Clement, 
who superseded the incorrigible Alberoni, and sent 
to San Marino the prelate, afterwards Cardinal Hen- 
riquez, who won all hearts by his justice, dignity, 
and amiable manners. He assisted the San Mari- 
nesi in providing a remedy for the disorders caused 
by his predecessor, and gave all classes of the citi- 
zens a fair opportunity to bear witness publicly to 
the freedom they had always enjoyed and cherished 
as their fathers before them. Venerable priests, 
cloistered monks, and friars and holy nuns, as well 
as the people, all uttered sentiments similar to those 
spoken forth by their magistrate in the church, and 
the good envoy, Henriquez, on the Feast of St. 
Agatha, February 5, made a solemn and public 
declaration, in the name of Pope Clement, that the 
Eepublican government was legitimately rehabili- 
tated in all its powers and functions so to remain in 
force for ever. The joy and gratitude of the people 
are described as having been most beautiful and 
touching. Many shed tears of noble emotion, and 
the Republic solemnly decreed that a monument, 



260 THE EEPUBLIC OF SAN MAEINO. 

crowned by a marble statue, should be erected in 
honor of Pope Clement, and that the anniversary of 
this great day should be celebrated for ever after. 
The monument still exists, and the anniversary con- 
tinues even now to be observed every year with 
great solemnity and religious devotion. Alberoni 
was removed from the Eomagna and sent to Bo- 
logna, by Pope Benedict XIY . The danger through 
which the Republic had passed served to reawaken 
the patriotism of its citizens, and to put an end to 
the internal dissensions which had more than once 
weakened the little state and jeopardized its free- 
dom. The place consequently rose in general favor 
and esteem, and increased in material prosperity. 

Before concluding this sketch, another visit to the 
Eepublic remains to be put on record. The 12th of 
Februar}^, 1797, citizen Monge, of the French Re- 
public, appeared on the heights of the Titan, bearing 
despatches from General Bonaparte, Commander-in- 
Chief of the army in Italy, then quartered with his 
division at Pesaro. Tlie citizen from France ad- 
dressed the citizens of San Marino in a neat and 
eloquent speech, assuring them of the fraternity and 
friendship of the French Republic, and of the high 
consideration in which they were held by Bonaparte 
himself. The answer was equally eloquent and satis- 
factory. Citizen Monge retired from the territory of 
tlie Republic with high honors, and Bonaparte wrote 
to assure its magistrates of the great pleasure aiforded 
him by the accounts he had received from citizen 



THE REPUBLIC OF SAN MARINO. 261 

Monge of tliem and their interesting little common- 
wealth. He begged them to accept a donation of 
wheat to help them along until the harvest, and of 
four pieces of cannon which he presented to them in 
the name of the French Republic. A letter was 
written to thank the General for his kindness and 
condescension, his gifts were accepted in pretty 
terms of acknowledgment, the cannons never came 
to hand, and so ended the fraternization between the 
two Kepublics. 

The last public document the present writer has 
seen from San Marino bears date March 23d, 1848. 
It is complimentary to Pope Pius IX. on the amnesty 
granted to political offenders, and the improvements 
introduced in the administration of the Pontifical 
States. The Captains of the Republic call upon the 
people to celebrate these happy events in the old 
Christian form of the Republic, that is by meeting 
first in the church of the Holy Founder and protec- 
tor of their liberty, to thank God for all his good 
gifts, and then by distributing alms among the 
poorer families, " so that all without exception may 
be able to take part in the general exultation." 

Such is a brief outline of the eventful history of 
the little mountain Republic of San Marino, the 
oldest free government in the world. They still 
continue to stamp their coin with the word Libertas^ 
and to love their founder and patron, in whose 
church and before whose altar the election of the 
Captains takes place, as in ages long gone by. 



262 THE REPUBLIC OF SAN MARINO. 

Their liistorj is liiglilj honorable to the long line of 
Popes with whom they had dealings, sometimes in 
friendship, and sometimes in open hostility. K the 
San Marinesi refused to listen to the Pontifical 
voice, when it seemed to be unjust to their liberties, 
still they have always been a devout and religious 
people, and never failed to make peace with Eome 
at the very earliest opportunity; and no injustice 
was ever done them by any Pope which was not 
atoned for as soon as he received a fair statement of 
their grievances, or which, if his death intervened, 
was not promptly and generously repaired by his 
successor on the pontifical throne. 



THE MARQUIS OF TUSCANY. 



THE MARQUIS OF TUSCANY. 



FLOKEN'CE.in olden times was not the beantifiil 
city which she became under the fostering care 
of the lavish and splendid Medici, nor was the valley 
of the Arno always a smiling field of olives, vines, 
oranges, and flowers, studded here and there with 
gorgeous villas and elegant casinos. The environs 
of Florence, now so beautiful and so populous, were 
covered with thick and tangled T^dld-wood in the 
days when our story begins. The light of the sun 
as it fell upon the silent soil, was broken and 
chequered by the branches of a primeval forest, and 
the huntsman often dismounted and warily led his 
steed through briery copsewood, or across marshy 
meadowland, traversed only by narrow and strag- 
gling paths. Along one of these rustic avenues, 
somewhat broader and straighter than the rest, a 
nobleman rode slowly one sultry summer afternoon. 
He had followed the chase, wliich was his favorite 
pastime, through the wilds of Yaldarno for several 
hours, until panting from the heat of the season, 



266 THE MARQUIS OF TUSCANY. 

wearj of exertion, and parched with thirst, he paced 
gently along in the hope of hearing a grateful 
promise of refreshment in the song of some Jonely 
cottager, or the bubbling sound of a mountain rill. 
The noble mien and lofty bearing of the cavalier 
would have led to the conclusion that he was a 
person of rank and consequence, nor did his dis- 
tinguished appearance belie him, for he was the 
Marquis Hugo, Lord of Florence and its Seignorj. 
He was led onward, on the occasion we speak of, 
without being himself aware of the fact, by a heaven- 
ly guide. Wholesome warning was much needed 
by the erring prince for his own good and for the 
good of his vassals; and he was on that day to 
receive it. 

The Marquis was a grandson of the renowned 
Hugo of Provence, second King of Italy after the 
downfall of the Emperor Berengarius. He was a 
powerful chief, a gallant soldier, and during the 
early part of his career he delighted in the practice 
of every virtue becoming a Christian prince. Tlie 
teachings and examples of a pious mother, to whom 
he was fondly attached, had impressed themselves at 
an early age upon his generous and feeling heart, 
and none more so than her often repeated injunction 
that he should ever be faitliful in his devotion to 
Mary. Deeply and sincerely did the young prince 
mourn his bereavement when his affectionate parent 
was called from the scenes of her virtuous life upon 
earth to receive a well earned crown in heaven. 



THE MARQUIS OF TUSCANY. 267 

His loss was even greater than the young nobleman 
fairly understood it to be. For when the gentle 
voice of his mother had ceased to breathe the timely 
warnings which had hitherto guided his steps, he 
began little by little to swerve from the straight 
path along which duty is present and certain at 
every point, while happiness may be reached only 
at the journey's end. 

Hugo changed rapidly, and for the worse. Yet 
such is the inconsistency of human nature ! although 
he soon neglected and forgot the counsels of his 
mother concerning the fulfilment of the ordinary 
practices of Christian virtue, he cherished wdiat was 
most pure and refined in the course she wished him 
to pursue, namely : love and devotion towards the 
queen of angels and virgins. The daily increase of 
influence and power, the noisy occupations of medi- 
eval warfare, and the society of worthless associates, 
depraved the young prince to such a degree that 
nothing was left save veneration for her name, and 
the practice of certain devotions in her honor, to 
distinguish him from the crowd of ruthless and 
corrupt chieftains who lorded it over Italy at the 
time in which he lived. He became a heartless 
oppressor of his people, and the excesses of his 
private life were the scandal of all who had access 
to the court. Such was the conduct of the noble 
Marquis, who professed tender devotion towards the 
Blessed Virgin, and who now rode along through 
the forests of Yaldarno, cursing the heat of the 



/ 



268 THE MARQUIS OF TUSCANY. 

season, and the thirst which parched his lips after 
the labors of the chase. 

Suddenly and nnexpectedlj a person met him on 
his way, and what was his delight when he perceived 
that it was a woman, bearing in her hands a salver 
of the freshest and most delicious fruits. It was a 
little mound of autumnal treasures, such as Domeni- 
chino or Carracci loved to paint to the life, and such 
as the traveller beholds in the banquet halls of 
Italian villas, as he gazes with astonishment at a 
counterfeit that stands forth from the canvas more 
real than reality, more natural than nature itself. 
Piled up before the eyes of the prince, dying of 
thirst, there were slices of fresh watermelon, large 
ripe figs, mellow apples, juicy pomegranates, luscious 
pears, and downy peaches, crowned and festooned 
with heavy bunches of blue and amber-colored 
grapes, bursting with very rij^eness. Eagerly did 
he stretch forth his glowing hand to this rich treasure, 
for which he would have paid its weight in gold ; — 
but how great was his annoyance when he perceived 
that these tempting fruits were all besmeared with 
filth. lie withdrew his hand: Yet burning thirst 
is not apt to be delicate and fastidious. Again he 
plunged his hand among the little mountain of fruits, 
but it emitted such a nauseous odor that he hastily 
drew back again ^nd turned his liead, overcome by 
a sense of sickening disgust that well-nigh caused 
him to faint. lie now gazed upon the bearer of this 
strange burden, so tempting to the siglit and bo 



THE MARQUIS OF TUSCANY. 269 

repulsive to the smell. She was a comely matron 
of august mien and majestic bearing, and the salver 
she bore in her hands seemed to the astonished 
nobleman to be made of burnished gold. Before he 
could give utterance to his surprise or demand an 
explanation, a steady and searching gaze was bent 
upon him, and he thrilled with awe at the words of 
reproof which fell upon his ear : " Tliou seest in 
these fruits an emblem of the devotion thou claimest 
to hold so dear. It is indeed heautifnl and good in 
itself hut so defiled hy thy wicked life as to he un- 
worthy of acceptance in the sight of heavenP Such 
was the warning given Hugo when he had declined 
to partake of the fruit, after which the vision dis- 
appeared from his sight and he found himself alone 
in the forest. 

The mildness of the rebuke he had miraculously 
received went to the very soul of the young prince, 
and overwhelmed him with shame and remorse. 
He thought of the peace and happiness of his inno- 
cent boyhood — ^lie remembered the gentle tones of 
his mother's voice — he thought of the promises made 
so often that he would be a faithful servant of 
Blessed Mary, the Mother of Holy Purity. Then 
rose up before him the extravagance and dissipation, 
the heartlessness and unchastity of the life he had 
been leading of late with his roystering comrades, 
and he shed tears of grief and bitter self-reproach. 
He promised speedy amendment — he purposed and 
he planned — and turned his horse's head towards 



270 THE MARQUIS OF TUSCANY. 

tlie gates of Florence, with the full conyiction that 
the morrow would find him a new man. Such were 
the resolves of Hugo, Marquis of Tuscany, as he 
reached his palace on the evening of that eventful 
day ; but, alas for poor human nature ! they were 
not destined to be honored in the observance. The 
old chronicle tells us that the young prince purposed 
reform indeed, but that he did not comply with his 
duties, nor fortify himself with the aids of grace, and 
that what was still worse, he failed to avoid the 
occasions which had already proved so fatal to his 
virtue. A few taunts and jeers from his youthful 
associates soon banished all traces of serious thought 
from his brow, a few merry bouts drowned all 
recollection of the vision in the forest, and the mild 
rebuke with which it was accompanied. Hugo soon 
became as stout a wassailer and as noisy a rioter as the 
best, or rather the worst of them — to use a still more 
forcible comparison, he shortly became as wicked a 
scape-grace as he had been before. A new reprimand 
was needed to recall him to his senses, which were 
now the very reverse of sober, a reprimand he should 
not so easily forget — and it came. 

The game-keepers of the Marquis had come upon 
the trail of a wild-boar, in the woods that skirted the 
foot of Mount Senario, and swept up its bold and 
rocky sides, and all the court had turned out in high 
spirits to enjoy the sport and give chase to the formi- 
dable savage. None of the princely cavalcade was 
more eager in pursuit that day than the bold and ad- 



THE MARQUIS OF TUSCANY. 271 

venturous young Marquis, but when a view was final- 
ly got of the chase, he grew wild with excitement, and 
hung upon the rear of the flying enemy w^ith such 
ardor that he followed him into the most wild and 
dreary fastnesses of the mountain. Here at length 
he paused and reined in his steed, which was covered 
with foam and panting with fatigue. He became 
aware that he had distanced his retinue, and sought 
vainly around to discover even one of his straggling 
attendants. The atmosphere, which had been sultry 
and moist, had grown close and dark, portending the 
gathering of a storm. All was still as death in the 
gloomy forest ; then as the prince looked up at the 
clouds, stretched like a mass of black marble over- 
head, a lew thick heavy drops pattered on the leaves 
of the trees, and even dashed upon his face and 
hands. Anon w^ere heard the first hoarse rumblings 
of thunder struggling to break forth from its dun- 
geon. Tlien came a loud crash like the bursting of 
an earthquake — the mountain seemed to tremble on 
its base ; the oaks tossed their giant branches in the 
fury of the blast ; the tall pines rocked wildly to and 
fro ; weird glimmering lightning lit up the trees and 
rocks with a lurid blaze, then all was dark again, 
and finally down poured the rain in heavy torrents, 
deluging the whole scene, gathering and gurgling 
from rock and gnlly, and foaming madly in yellow 
cascades down the steep sides of the mountain. 

The brave prince, though lie w^as no stranger to 
Alpine thunder-storms, thought he had never seen 



272 THE MARQUIS OF TUSCANY. 

one so furiously violent as this. Nothing makes a 
coward, even of a brave man, so quick as to be sud- 
denly drenched with cold water from head to foot, 
and he looked wildly around for some place of shel- 
ter. He discovered at length the outlet of a cavern 
in the rock, and thither he spurred his jaded and 
terrified steed. The Prince dismounted and entered, 
leading his horse under the brow of the overhanging 
rock, when a spectacle met his view which transfixed 
him with terror to the spot. The sides and sunnnit 
of a wide and deep cavern were filled with black 
volumes of smoke, in the centre of which blazed 
and labored a fiery forge, looking like a picture of 
hell with midnight for its frame. In front of the 
forge rose a large anvil, and around it stood several 
swarthy half-naked figures, whose fiendish eyes and 
grinning teeth were lit up by the red glare that shot 
from the mouth of the furnace. These Satanic 
smiths were busy in drawing forth from the fire and 
pounding with heavy blows on the anvil, not bars 
of iron or steel, but arms, heads, hearts, and other 

i:)ortions of human bodies The Marquis 

gazed with fear and horror on the appalling scene; 
but the thought struck him that the monsters before 
him must be necromancers, who had retired to these 
wilds in order to practise, unwhipt of justice, the 
abominable orgies of their craft. For this class of 
malefactors he had always entertained a feeling of 
indignant aversion. With the courage which formed 
a remarkable trait in his character, he lifted up liis 



THE MARQUIS OF TUSCANY. 273 

voice, rating tliem in no measured terms, and threat- 
ening tliem with the severest penalties for their 
crimes. He had not yet ceased speaking, when one 
of the ugly caitiffs drew near to the mouth of the 
cave and cut short his address by saying fiercely : 
" E'ot so fast, good sir, an it please you. -"We are 
not the wizards you take us for, but ministers of 
Divine justice, who punish in the manner you be- 
hold a number of , lewd varlets consigned to our 
hands. All we wait for now is one Hugo, Signor of ^^ 
the surrounding country, who, if we fasten our grip 
upon him, will pay well for his lecheries on yon 
anvil." Never, in his ha]3piest days, had the poor 
Marquis invoked the Blessed Virgin so devoutly as / 
he did at that moment. Detesting his bad life and I 
promising to do penance, firmly enough this time, 
he prayed to God to save him from the fiery demons \J 
before him. He blessed himself devoutly, and at 
the sign of the cross they vanished. 

lingo left the cave a far different man from what 
he was when he entered it. He discovered close at 
liand a little hermitage, the tenant of which was a 
man of God, named Engenius. He spent the whole 
night with this venerable recluse in discourse touch- 
ing liis conversion, and the acts of virtue he ]u*o- 
poscd to pei-ibrm. In \\\q morning he returned to 
the city, and going to Eustace, Archl)ishop of Flo- 
rence, he gave him a full account of his wonderful 
adventure. He set about repairing the scandals he 
had given, by a public example of penance and 

13 



/J 



274 THE MARQUIS OF TUSCANY. 

humiliation. On a solemn festival lie proceeded to 
the gre^t church of the Duomo, accompanied by 
Eustace and the Archbishop of Ravenna. Legate of 
the Holy See, to make a public confession of his 
( errors. With tears in his eyes he repeated continu- 
\ ally to the crowd of people through which he passed, 

I Y" Hugo will be Hugo no longer. Ugo non sara piu 

(y'llgo — Ugo non sara piu Ugo." 

History bears witness that he was true to his pro- 
mise. Although one of the most warlike barons of 
his day, he avoided the brawls in which his neigh- 
bors were unceasingly engaged, nor do we know 
that he unsheathed the sword, unless for the protec- 
tion of the innocent, or the punishment of bandits 
and evil-doers. He built several monasteries, and 
among them the celebrated Benedictine Abbey of 
Santa Maria in Florence, and was so much beloved 
by his subjects for his justice and moderation, that 
they honored him with the surname of " I'Ottimo," 

■ or ''The Excellent." 

The history of his miraculous conversion has been 
handed down by tradition, and is often repeated 
among the people of Italy even at the present day. 
Their childlike devotion and beautiful taste has led 
them to dedicate the month of May, the sweet sea- 
son of sunbeams, zephyrs, and flowers, to the special 
honor of " La Madonna Santissima," the mother of 
the Saviour, the queen of Purity and Love. Often 
during that lovely month, when the " Padre Diret- 
tore" instructs his youthful ilock, whom ho aflection- 



THE MARQUIS OF TUSCANY. 275 

ately addresses as " children of Mary," he tells them 
that no devotion is grateful to their gentle patroness 
unless it be accompanied with the practice of true 
Christian virtue ; and on such occasions he is heard 
not unfrequently to illustrate the truth of his asser- 
tion by quoting the legend of Hugo Marquis of 
Tuscany. 



THE END. 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



020 129 422 8 



